


Chosen Family

by eiluned



Series: Chosen Family [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Babies, Childbirth, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Non-Graphic Violence, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Schmoop, Sexual Content, Team as Family, Trust, Unplanned Pregnancy, hold onto your feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p><p>Natasha is used to adapting to what life throws at her, but coming to terms with two impossible lines on a test strip is a little bigger than defecting to the U.S.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Plan Life

**Author's Note:**

> **Story Notes:** Based on a couple of fan timelines, _The Avengers_ happens in May 2012. This fic begins in April 2013, almost a year after the team first came together to fight Loki.
> 
> Each chapter has a different rating, but since there are explicit chapters, that's what the overall rating is. Chapter 1 is rated Teen & Up.
> 
>  **Author Notes:** Holy crap, I can't believe I've finally finished this. I've been working on it for months. MONTHS. Enormous thanks to the Hive Mind for all of their support and beta reading and suggestions and squeeing as I wrote this. I love you all more than I can say! And any mistakes in the text are mine, not theirs. :)
> 
> I would absolutely love to hear what you think about this fic, so please please please comment if you feel the urge. :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha makes a very unexpected discovery.

The bathroom floor was a pretty good place to hide, Natasha discovered.

Clint walked all over their shared floor in Stark Tower, calling her name, even going out on the balcony before thinking to check the bathroom, and that was where he found her, sitting on the floor beside the toilet, a little strip of plastic between her hands.

"Tasha?" he said, then stopped short at the sight of her. "Babe, are you okay? You're pale."

She could only imagine how she looked, based on how she felt. She was nauseated and scared and shocked and probably white as a sheet. Her hands were even shaking a little bit, all because of two lines on a test strip.

"Um," Clint said. "Is that what I think it is?"

In response, she wordlessly turned it around to show him the results, and he sank to his knees in front of her. "Oh shit," he said, taking the test from her hand. "You're... you're pregnant?"

She heaved a huge sigh, resting her forehead on her knees where they were bent in front of her. "Looks like it," she murmured.

"But... I don't understand. How--"

"Well, when two people love each other very--"

"Tasha," he said, a little sharply, and she bit off the rest of her sarcastic reply.

"I don't know," she said softly. "This isn't... It's not supposed to happen. I don't know."

She looked up to see him sit back against the other wall. "Jesus," he said, swiping a hand over his face. "What do we do now?"

Putting her chin on her knees, she looked at the floor without really seeing it. "I have no idea," she whispered, her eyes suddenly burning.

This was something she had never planned on, ever, not with the life she led. She was still running missions for S.H.I.E.L.D. along with the Avengers stuff, and there was always a decent chance that either she or Clint wouldn't come back alive. Nevermind that the missions themselves were hard on her body; there was no way she would be able to do even half of what a mission would require of her while pregnant.

It wasn't something she had ever expected, _ever_. It was supposed to be impossible.

_There's always a chance the test is wrong,_ a little voice in her head whispered, but she squashed that hope as soon as it surfaced. She had taken the test because she already suspected it. Her period was late enough to make her really worry, she been exhausted lately, and for the past week or so, the smell of coffee had made her run for the bathroom. She was hard-pressed to think of a pregnancy symptom worse than that.

After a long, silent moment, the shock faded from his expression, and he scooted across the floor to sit beside her, turning her face to his and kissing her with such tenderness that she thought her heart would stop. "I have no idea what we should do," he murmured against her lips. "But we'll do it together."

The burning in her eyes turned to full-fledged tears, and despite hating to cry, even in front of him, she let him pull her into his arms. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back and made soothing sounds until she had cried it out against his shoulder, and then he just held her while she stared at the wall.

"You okay?" he finally murmured.

"I'm scared out of my mind, Clint," she whispered in reply. "How about you?"

Clint took a deep breath. "I'm... surprised. Very surprised. Actually, surprised isn't a strong enough word," he said with a little huff of a laugh. "And I'm scared, too. But I'm also... this is weird. I, uh... kinda love the idea that we made a baby together."

Natasha had to close her eyes because those words sent a strange jolt through her. Underneath all of the fear and anxiety flooding her, she realized she was a little taken with that idea, too. She loved Clint more than anything, more than she had ever been able to put into words, more than she had loved anyone else. Before him, she had been alone. She was still self-sufficient, but having Clint at her back was a comfort. Before him, she had never felt a sense of family.

On days when she was exhausted with her life, she even entertained fantasies of having a normal life with him, with a white picket fence and a dog and 2.5 kids but they were just that: fantasies. They were spies-turned-heroes, and making that transition had been hard enough. She had never imagined that she could have the opportunity for anything normal in her life.

It was impossible, or it had been until she'd peed on a damn stick that morning and saw two blue lines.

She was happy with what she had with Clint, with being his partner and his lover, but the now-looming possibility that they could turn that into something more... Well, it was intriguing. She didn't know if a normal life would suit either of them, but the idea was provocative.

When she opened her eyes, it was to find Clint giving her a worried look. "I didn't mean to upset you--" he started, but she cut him off.

"No, you didn't," she said. "I was just... thinking about all of this. I don't know, Clint. I don't know what to do. What do you think?"

He reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his face set in unusually serious lines. "I think ultimately, the decision is yours," he said. "It's your body, and I wouldn't presume to think--"

"I know that," she interrupted, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "But you went in halves with me on this, so you get your say. What do you think?"

Leaning back against the wall, he pursed his lips while he thought. "I think... if this isn't the right time for you, I completely understand. I'm okay with that. Hell, I don't know if it's the right time for me, or if it'll ever be the right time, with what we do," he said after a moment, rubbing circles on her shoulder.

"And what if I want to... keep the baby?" she asked, her heart thudding particularly hard at that thought.

A little smile curved his lips, and he cupped her cheek in his warm hand. "I'm okay with that, too. I love you, Natasha, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way whatever decision you make," he said gently. "If you don't want to have a baby, okay. If you do want to have a baby, then... we'll have a baby."

Natasha took a deep breath and released it, leaning into the warmth of his body. "I need to think about this," she said.

Tightening his arm around her shoulders, he kissed her, and then he sat with her on the bathroom floor until she was ready to stand up and face the world.

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D. kept all kinds of doctors on call, because you really never knew what kind of trouble agents would get themselves into. The orthopedic surgeons got the most business by far, but there was also an OB/GYN on staff, since there were female agents who needed checkups, too.

When Natasha called, she thought Dr. Reyes would cry with happiness at having something, _anything_ to do. "It looks like your yearly exam isn't due for another five months, Agent Romanoff," she said, the sound of a keyboard clicking coming through the phone. "Can I ask why you want an appointment?"

Natasha pressed her lips together and glanced around the crowded commissary. "Um, I'd rather not say," she muttered.

Dr. Reyes made an understanding noise. "I see. Well, I'm free any time today, so--"

"I'll be there in five minutes."

Four and a half minutes later, Natasha slipped into the medical unit and made for Dr. Reyes's tiny clinic, closing the door behind herself. The doctor looked up in surprise, as if she hadn't really believed the five minutes thing, and she motioned to the chair in front of her desk. "Agent Romanoff, what can I do for you today?" she said, quickly regaining her pleasant bedside manner.

Natasha inhaled and exhaled slowly, because even thinking the words still made her feel sick with anxiety. Obviously two hours wasn't long enough to come to terms with... things. "I'm... I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant," she said, and sure enough, her stomach lurched. "I took a test this morning, and I need you to confirm it, please."

Dr. Reyes's eyes went wide for a second before she recovered. "Of course," she said soothingly. "May I ask when your last menstrual period was?"

Pulling the doctor's desk calendar around so she could see it, Natasha pointed out the date. "I'm three weeks late," she added, feeling she should be thorough. "I've thrown up a few times and have sore breasts, and I've been very tired lately, too, and I've been getting nauseated because of certain scents like coffee and--"

"Agent Romanoff," Dr. Reyes interrupted gently, and Natasha realized she had been rambling. "There's no need to worry. Let's run a blood test and see where to go from there, all right?"

One of the perks of working for an organization that ended up with hurt people all the time was that the med lab was fantastic. There wasn't a lab work backlog, and quick tests were actually quick. She waited in one of the armchairs inside Dr. Reyes's little clinic for barely half an hour before the doctor reappeared.

"Well, Agent Romanoff, it appears that you are pregnant," the doctor said, and Natasha wondered for a second if she would throw up right there on the floor. "Your hCG levels are quite high, though, so I would like you to come back for an ultrasound early next week. I need to request a sonogram machine, which is why we're not doing it today."

"Why? What does that mean?" Natasha demanded.

"It just means that I think you might be farther along than you suspect," Dr. Reyes said; she must have perfected that soothing tone of voice because Natasha immediately relaxed a little. "With an ultrasound, we can determine just how far along you are, and if you would like, we can discuss your options."

Pregnant. What the hell was she going to do?

"Doctor..." she said. "This... this is supposed to be impossible."

Dr. Reyes furrowed her brow, sitting down in the other armchair. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Natasha stared at her hands for a second. "This is highly classified," she said. "So please keep it to yourself."

"Of course, Agent Romanoff," the doctor said seriously.

"I spent my early years in a Soviet intelligence program. I was," she paused to swallow, "Treated with a variant of the super soldier serum and subjected to experimentation which... I was led to believe left me sterile. So I don't understand how I can be pregnant."

Dr. Reyes was quiet for a moment. "May I have access to any files pertaining to those experiments?" she asked. "I'm not sure what to tell you, but perhaps if I can examine your records, I may be able to find something helpful."

Natasha nodded. "I'll send them to you."

The doctor smiled at her. "Please, try not to worry," she said. "I'll look over the files this weekend, and when we do the ultrasound on Monday, we should be able to better understand what's going on."

* * *

The next four days were notable mainly for the random hugs that happened at inopportune times and in awkward places. Whenever she would start getting anxious, Clint would appear as if by magic and wrap his arms around her.

Everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about their relationship--it was pretty much an open secret; everyone knew but no one talked about it--but it was still pretty weird to get a bear hug in front of Nick Fury.

Even though it was slightly embarrassing, it made Natasha feel infinitely better.

In between drive-by cuddles, she thought long and hard about... well, everything. She made a mental list of pros and cons (she didn't want to risk anyone finding a paper copy) that looked something like this:

**Cons:**  
-possibility of miscarriage or birth defects thanks to Red Room experiments  
-no more missions for the duration of pregnancy  
-major body changes  
-complete lifestyle change  
-possibly have to quit S.H.I.E.L.D.  
-suspect I will be a terrible mother  
-strongly suspect I will be a terrible mother  
-do not think I have a single maternal bone in my body  
-several months of toting around fetus  
-followed by eighteen years of toting around... offspring

**Pros:**  
-having a baby with Clint

Even though the pro list was much shorter than the con list, somehow that one entry was starting to outweigh everything else.

She even found herself daydreaming about it, having a kid with her red hair and his blue-green eyes. The daydreams about Clint cuddling with that imagined baby she blamed on pregnancy hormones.

She was worried, though, that she was starting to want this just because she was afraid it was a fluke. She wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place; what if she terminated the pregnancy and then decided in the future that she wanted a child but couldn't conceive? She didn't want to have this baby out of a sense of obligation to what ifs. If she was going to have this baby, it was going to be because she _wanted it_.

On Sunday, Clint came back from the gym to find her standing in the middle of the living room, wringing her hands in a very un-Natasha-like manner. "Nat? You okay?" he said, dropping his gym bag and crossing the room in three long strides.

"How would you feel about having a baby?" she blurted out, because if she didn't say the words right then, she might chicken out and stay silent for the rest of her life.

Clint stopped with his hands just inches from her arms, and she watched his face carefully, trying to read his reaction. The first expression to cross his face was surprise, presumably at the out-of-the-blue topic. The second was shock, and she guessed that wasn't the choice he had expected her to make. The third was... well, something that looked like happiness if it had been turned into sunshine.

The fourth expression was schooled neutrality, his poker face, and she pressed her lips together to hide a nervous smile. "Tasha, if you want to have a baby," he said, his voice carefully controlled, "Then I will happily hold your hand while you're in labor. Even if you break my fingers. And then I will help you raise our ridiculously gorgeous child, if you want me to stick around."

"Of course I want you to stick around," she said with a laugh, catching his hand in hers. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, I mean, I did knock you up--"

"And ridiculously attractive? Really?"

He grinned at her then and motioned between them. "Have you looked at us?" he said. "We're going to produce the most gorgeous baby ever."

"Oh my god, we're going to have a baby," she said, and for the first time, that thought didn't make her want to throw up. Much.

Clint made to hug her, but she caught him with both hands on his chest. "You smell like a sweaty wolverine," she said. "No cuddling until you take a shower."

"That never bothered you before," he said with a leer.

"Yeah, but that was before random smells that never used to bother me suddenly make me puke."

He gave her a very serious nod. "Understood. I don't want you to toss your cookies on me."

Smiling at him, she turned to go into the bedroom, but a faint sound made her glance back just as she walked through the door.

Clint was doing a happy dance.

* * *

She was lounging on the bed when he came out of the shower, clad only in his boxer-briefs and rubbing a towel over his hair. "So I take it you're pleased?" she said, putting her tablet on the bedside table.

His lips quirked up at the corners as he tossed his towel back into the bathroom. "You saw that, huh?"

"I did," she deadpanned. "It was kind of adorable."

"Well, I do specialize in adorable," he replied, dropping onto the bed beside her. "And yeah. I'm happy. I'm crazy about you, Tash. And as crazy as it sounds, for the two of us to have a kid doing all this Avengers crap, I really do want this. You're my family, and... it just makes sense for us to make a family together."

Natasha slipped easily into his arms, running her fingers through the spiky mess of his hair to mask her reaction to hearing him say that. She had thought about it, of course, about their partnership as something like a family, but to hear it aloud, to hear that she wasn't alone in that feeling, made her flush with an unfamiliar warmth.

"I want this, too," she said softly when she was sure her voice would be steady. "It's scary, and I don't know how we're going to balance the Avengers crap with... well, a baby. And I still don't understand how this even happened. But I... want it."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "We can both take desk jobs until we're ready to go back out in the field," he said.

She pushed herself up on one elbow. "Both of us? But you love being in the field."

"So do you," he pointed out. "But it wouldn't be fair for you to sit out everything alone."

A smile slowly curved her lips, and she suddenly threw herself onto him, pushing him down onto his back and kissing him deeply. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around," she murmured against his lips.

"Because I'm charming and selfless and have a great ass?" he rumbled, his arms sliding around her waist.

"Yes, exactly."

When her hands drifted down to the waistband of his underwear, he drew back and gave her an impish look. "Hey now," he said. "Are pregnant ladies supposed to be doing this sort of thing?"

Natasha slipped a hand inside his shorts. "Shut up or I'll stop."

He wisely shut up.

* * *

Monday found Natasha back in Dr. Reyes's office. Clint was off doing something, but after the physical exam was over and the doctor was getting the ultrasound machine ready, he responded to her text message in record time, skidding into the office three minutes after she sent it.

Dr. Reyes looked startled, but Natasha just grinned. "Out of professional curiosity, where were you?" she asked as he sat down in the chair beside her and tried to catch his breath.

"Shooting range," he panted.

"Wow, and you made it here in three minutes? I'm impressed."

"Thanks," he said with a grin. "I plowed over Agent Ellison, but I think he forgave me."

"I'm ready when you are, Agent Romanoff, Agent... Barton, is it?" Dr. Reyes said, and he nodded.

Clint suddenly looked as nervous as Natasha felt as the doctor got everything in place. Without thinking, she reached out and he grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight. The doctor's eyes followed their movements, and Natasha watched her quickly school her raised eyebrows back into a neutral expression. The doctor obviously knew who they both were (anonymity was hard to maintain when you were an Avenger), but she also obviously hadn't heard the gossip about their not-so-secret secret relationship.

"This will be a little cold," Dr. Reyes warned, but Natasha still jumped when she squirted the gel on her stomach.

Up to that point, the idea of being pregnant had been a completely conceptual exercise. She had symptoms, of course, but nausea and fatigue could be from anything. She was still slim, her stomach still flat, and it was hard to imagine that there was actually something growing in there.

"Ah, here we go," Dr. Reyes said, turning the monitor so they could see.

And there it was, a little... thing floating in the dark of her belly. It looked a little bit like a gummy bear with an oversized head, and Natasha had to fight back the absurd urge to laugh at that thought. As she watched, it moved, its tiny body twitching, and it suddenly struck her.

That was their baby.

Clint had leaned forward, and now he rested his chin on the edge of the exam bed, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the screen, a tiny smile curving his lips. Natasha gripped his hand, and he turned that little smile on her, making her heart jump into her throat.

This was real.

"Congratulations," Dr. Reyes said. "It looks like you're around nine weeks."

"Nine?" Natasha exclaimed. "But... how is that..."

"Sometimes women have light spotting and think it's a period when they're actually pregnant," the doctor said, putting away the sonogram equipment and passing Natasha a towel to wipe off the gel. "Was your last period very light?"

She had to think hard to remember; it had been during a mission, which was always a delightful inconvenience, but now that she thought about it, it had been unusually light.

"Well," Dr. Reyes said, "The good news is you only have a few weeks left in your first trimester, so you should start feeling more energetic soon."

"Did you see anything in my files...?" Natasha asked, and the doctor gave a half-shrug.

"Nothing conclusive," she said with an apologetic smile. "The records dealing with the serum are fairly complete, but the experiment records are fragmented. Your reproductive system is obviously intact, and I haven't seen or felt any evidence of occlusion in your fallopian tubes. Some of the records indicate induced hyperovulation and others are for contraceptive treatments. Without the complete records, though, I don't have any way of knowing why you were infertile or why you were able to become pregnant. Is there any way of retrieving a more complete set of records?"

Natasha shook her head. "It's unlikely," she said. "I blew up the facility ten years ago."

Dr. Reyes blinked but recovered quickly. "I see," she said. "Then, I think we should monitor your pregnancy as if it were high-risk, even though I see no evidence of major problems. We just want to be safe. Shall we go calculate your due date?"

Back in front of the doctor's desk, they were told the most likely due date (mid-November), Natasha was given a list of things to avoid eating, an enormous bottle of vitamins, and instructions on exercising during pregnancy, and then they were on their way, leaving Dr. Reyes looking rather thrilled. Natasha didn't imagine she got to deal with too many babies with this job, so... it was kind of nice to give the doctor something to do.

In the corridor, Clint looked both ways and then pulled her into an alcove, leaning back against the wall and pulling her into his arms. "Holy shit," he said softly. "Did you see that? What am I saying, of course you saw that. It moved!"

She laughed and pressed her face against his chest. "Yes, they apparently do that," she said.

"Hush. I just didn't know they moved like that so early," he retorted, squeezing her into a tighter hug. "You know, it kind of looks like a xenomorph."

Drawing back, she raised an eyebrow at him. "A what?"

"A xenomorph!" he repeated, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, from _Alien_."

"It did _not_ look like a chestburster, Clint," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh god, you're not going to pull a John Hurt on me, are you?" he said in mock-horror, bringing his hand up to mime a baby alien wiggling around on his chest, complete with screechy alien noises.

Natasha was laughing too hard to respond at that point, and had to pull herself together quickly when Banner suddenly appeared just outside of the alcove. She stepped away from Clint slightly, hiding a smile behind her hand, and Clint turned his alien pantomime into a hasty shirt adjustment.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt... whatever that was, but Fury's looking for you two," Bruce said, looking between them curiously. "He says you're late to your appointment with him."

"And he sent you to look for us?" Clint said.

"Nope," Bruce said. "He was bitching about it to everyone in central command, so when I saw you, I thought I should pass the message along. He looked pretty pissed. You might want to book it over there."

"Thanks, Bruce," Natasha said, and he gave her a little smile before disappearing down the corridor.

She started to step out of the alcove, but Clint caught her hand and pulled her close again. "You okay?" he asked simply.

This was why she loved Clint so much, a big part of why she had fallen for him in the first place. He trusted her to say what she was comfortable saying, and he never pushed, even when he was worried about her. He never had to push, because he was the only person she opened up to, the only one she trusted that much.

"I think so," she answered, letting him squeeze her in a tight hug. "I still can't believe this is happening, but I think I'm okay."

"Okay," he said with a smile.

* * *

"Agents, I seem to recall telling you I would meet with you at 1030 hours," Fury said as they stepped into his office, giving his watch a pointed look. "It is now... 1045."

"Sorry, sir," Natasha said, closing the door behind herself and taking the seat Clint had graciously pulled out for her. "We were unavoidably detained. But we'd like to talk to you about our assignments."

Fury looked at her, then Clint, and then back at her. "You're pregnant, aren't you?" he said bluntly.

She felt her eyes go wide, and Clint's mouth dropped open. Fury was pretty good at reading people, but that was just ridiculous. "How did you _know_ that?" Clint sputtered.

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" Fury said, leaning back in his chair. "You knocked her up."

Clint sputtered again. "Sir--"

"Shut up, Barton," he said, and there was a hint of good-natured ribbing around the edge of his tone that made Natasha relax. "Natasha isn't drinking coffee. She's always drinking coffee. She's bolted out of the commissary at least twice that I've seen, presumably to go throw up. You were hugging her in front of god and everyone last week. And finally, why else would you two be requesting desk jobs?"

"And how did you know that's what we wanted to see you about?" Clint said.

Fury shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't completely sure about that one, but you just confirmed it for me," he said. "I'm bumping you two up to senior agents. It's about time for a promotion anyway. You'll oversee mission planning and training and provide tactical support for any Avengers issues. Is that acceptable?"

She and Clint looked at each other for a second, and she nodded at the question in his expression. "I think that's acceptable, sir," she said, looking back at Fury.

He nodded and tapped something into his tablet. "Excellent," he said. "Now, when can S.H.I.E.L.D. expect this little bundle of joy? Though if it's anything like Barton, it's more like a bundle of pain in my ass."

Natasha swallowed her laugh. "Mid-November," she said. "We would like to keep this quiet, at least for a few more weeks."

Fury actually smiled, and she could tell it was blowing Clint's mind. She had seen Fury relaxed and had seen him smile without any hint of sarcasm or derision, and it was nice to have him pull out that rare expression because of this. "Of course," he said. "Take care of yourself, Natasha. And Barton, you take care of her. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in late April, when Natasha is at 9 weeks.
> 
> I know that it's more likely a doctor would use a transvaginal ultrasound that early in a pregnancy, but I didn't want to describe that, haha. Please forgive the purposeful error.


	2. Tactical Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint brushes up on his reproductive education, and Natasha tries to deal with her anxiety about being pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 Weeks, late April. This chapter is rated Teen & Up.

"Hey, Nat. C'mere."

She was napping on the couch, and she removed her arm from her face and glared at him. "What is it?" she mumbled.

"Did you know the baby's the size of a kumquat right now?"

Sighing, she sat up and crawled to the other end of the sofa, where Clint sat with a laptop perched on his knees. "You're looking at baby sites?" she said, raising her eyebrow.

"Yeah," he replied, scrolling past an illustration of a little gummy bear fetus. "I came to the realization that I know next to nothing about pregnancy. Y'know, shitty education in the circus and all that. So I started researching."

"A kumquat? Do you even know what a kumquat looks like?"

He shot her a smirk. "Yes, smartass, I know what a kumquat looks like," he said. "The baby doesn't have webbing on her fingers and toes now, and her nails are developing."

"Yeah, because you googled it a minute ago," Natasha retorted, settling against his side so she could peer at the laptop screen. "'Her?'"

"This site switches back and forth between boy and girl on each week's page. Ten weeks is a girl week," he explained. "It says your uterus is the size of a grapefruit, too, and that your clothes should be feeling tight. Having trouble zipping your jeans, Tash?"

She scowled at him, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "No worries," he said. "You can get elastic waistbands."

Clint had obviously been doing a lot of research while she was dozing, because he launched into a rather excited recitation of what he'd read. After a couple of minutes, though, he trailed off, giving her a penetrating look. "You're quiet," he said, putting his laptop on the coffee table. "Are you still okay with this?"

Damn him and his uncanny ability to read her moods. "I'm fine," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm just... anxious. This is such a huge thing, such a huge change, and... I'm just trying to find a way to deal with it."

She let him pull her into his lap and leaned into the comforting warmth of his body. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Do you need me to stop talking about it so much?"

Shaking her head, she cupped his cheek. "No, Clint," she said. "I'm happy that you're excited. It helps me. It makes me feel better that you're excited about this."

"Are you excited?" he asked quietly.

Tears stung her eyes suddenly, and she gulped in a breath to stave them off. "I am," she said. "It's just scary. You know me. I don't like being scared. I don't... I don't want to get my hopes up only to have something go wrong. I'm afraid that I'll start wanting this baby too much and then I'll lose it."

Clint was quiet for a long moment, and she heard him swallow hard. "I can't promise you that everything will work out fine," he finally said. "But we can't spend the next six months worrying about what might happen. You're not a worrier, Tasha. Maybe we should think of this like a mission. Understand the risks, but don't dwell on them to the point where we lose sight of the end result."

She let out a huff of laughter. "You're going to plan a tactical pregnancy."

He grinned at her and pulled her in for a kiss. "I can plot out the patterns for you, if you think it'll help," he teased, but then his expression grew serious. "I just want to make sure you're happy, Tash, and that you want this."

"I do," she said. "It's... Sometimes I wonder if I want this because I'm afraid I'll never have the opportunity again. I don't know if that's right."

That sent him into another quiet moment, and she knew he was turning her words over in his mind. "I don't know if that's wrong," he said. "If what was done to you wasn't a factor, would you want to have a baby?"

"Up until a week ago, I would have said no," she said. "But... god, I hate trying to talk about stuff like this. I'm no good at my own emotions."

"You know you don't have to put on a show with me, Tasha," he said softly. "Say what you're comfortable saying."

There were so many things roiling inside of her: fear of being a mother and of potentially _not_ being a mother, that foreign desire to actually have a child, fear of the unknown and anxiety at having to upend her entire life, but underneath it all was her trust in Clint, in their relationship. She loved him, and she realized that she loved the fact that they had created this baby inside of her together.

She took a deep breath and chose what she wanted to say.

"I want to have this baby with you."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly. "Did you know that with your first pregnancy, your bra size can go up by two cups?" he said.

That startled a laugh out of Natasha. "Two cups?" she echoed.

"Or more."

"Oh god," she mumbled, pressing her face against his neck. "You're going to love that."


	3. Sad Puppies & Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pregnancy hormones rear their ugly heads. Steve finds out the secret, and Natasha tries to reconcile her past with her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 weeks, early May.
> 
> Playing fast and loose with Natasha's MCU history, since we don't know a whole lot about it yet. Hooray creative license!
> 
> This chapter is rated Teen & Up. Fear not, there's some loving next chapter. ;)

The first person to officially find out, aside from Fury, was Steve.

Three weeks after they started their desk jobs--Fury passed it off as a simple promotion, and aside from a few curious looks, everyone seemed to have just rolled with it--Natasha was sitting in one of the private break rooms, sipping a cup of tea (coffee didn't work, but she could handle tea) and watching something inane on television.

Unfortunately, a commercial for an animal charity came on, and the pregnancy hormones reared their ugly heads. Some folk singer was singing sad songs about angels, and there were abandoned puppies and kittens, and Natasha had to put her mug down because she was suddenly weeping.

And of course, that was when Steve walked into the room.

Contrary to popular belief, Natasha actually did cry. She just cried when the occasion called for it, and occasions like sad TV didn't call for it. Yeah, she got a little misty at that Pixar movie about the old man and the balloon house (because you would have to be soulless to not cry during the first part) but she didn't cry over stupid things on TV.

She saved her tears for things that mattered, like the people she couldn't save or friends she had lost over the years.

But there she was, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, actually hiccuping a little with the force of her sobs, and Steve walked in.

She looked up at him, and he looked absolutely horrified.

"Natasha!" he exclaimed, dropping his bag and vaulting over the back of the couch to where she sat. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Embarrassed, she wiped her face and tried to control her breathing. "No, everything's fine," she said. "It's just... this stupid commercial about the abandoned pets--"

And damned if that didn't send her off into another bout of sobbing. Steve being Steve didn't bother trying to read her body language (which was pretty obviously screaming "Oh shit, I don't want you to see me cry!") and instead sat down beside her, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders. "Are you sure you're all right?" he said softly.

She couldn't help herself. His sympathy, so genuine and unassuming, made the dam break. "I'm fine," she hiccuped, "But I'm pregnant, and it's terrifying and exciting, and oh god, I'm going to be a terrible mother, Steve."

And then she let him pull her into a hug, and she cried against his freshly-pressed plaid shirt.

"Natasha, you're not going to be a terrible mother," he said, rubbing her shoulder. "I don't think that's the case at all. If you're scared about it, I think that's a sign that you're going to do everything you can to be the best. You aren't complacent, and you don't think you know everything. I think you're going to be a fine mother."

She turned those words over in her mind and found that they made a lot of sense. And then she realized that he hadn't acted surprised at all at her little revelation, so she sat up and pulled away from him a little. "Wait," she said. "Did you already know?"

He ducked his head a little, a move she recognized as his slightly embarrassed tic. "Well," he said. "I had heard... gossip."

"Oh shit," Natasha muttered, feeling a little guilty when Steve blushed; he may have cursed a blue streak himself, but he just couldn't get used to ladies using that sort of language, and he still thought of her as a lady, which was admittedly kind of adorable.

"Some people were just curious," he hastily explained. "They thought it was odd that you and Clint both went off of field duty at the same time, and then there's the coffee thing--"

"Is everyone at HQ keeping track of my coffee habit?" she sighed, and he grinned.

"It is pretty strange to see you without your mug in the morning. And anyway, they were wondering if maybe you were... in the family way, y'know. I... didn't know if I should jump in to try to defend your honor or not. Even though I, um, sort of suspected it myself."

She fought the urge to laugh at his earnest desire to dress down anyone who would impugn her honor. It was charming, really. "You don't need to do that, but I appreciate the gesture, Steve," she said with a smile. "But you know, people have children without being married all the time now. It's pretty normal."

He chewed on that thought for a moment, and settled for looking slightly flabbergasted. "It happened all the time back in... well, my day," he said. "But they rushed to get married and then said the baby came early. It's... an interesting change, that you don't have to get married if it happens."

"I'm sure some people still want to get married because of an unexpected pregnancy, but that's not something Clint and I have talked about," she said. "Huh. And I thought I was hiding this pretty well."

"You are!" he said, but he was blushing again, all the way to his ears this time. "It's just you're also a bit... bigger."

He motioned at her torso in general, and she thought that couldn't be right. She'd been checking her stomach in the mirror every morning and hadn't seen any sign of an obvious bump, just some bloating. She looked down to check again and realized that she actually couldn't see her stomach over her breasts.

Steve was beet red by that point. "If you're okay, I guess I should get back to work," he said, his embarrassment at directly referring to her breasts obviously warring with his need to be a mother hen. "Fury has me looking over old HYDRA files and making notes. Do you need anything? Should I make tea? ...Oh, you already have tea. Would you like some more tea? Should I call Clint?"

She smiled again and patted his arm. "I'm fine, Steve," she said. "Thanks, though. For... everything."

He smiled back at her. "I'm happy for you and Clint," he said, pausing at the door. "And... I think if you're afraid, you should talk with him about it. He knows you better than any of us, and I think he would want to know."

She nodded, and he left the room, quietly closing the door behind himself. Natasha curled up on the couch and looked for a channel that wouldn't blindside her with sad dogs.

* * *

Talking with Steve had made her feel a little better, but she couldn't shake the awful fear that she was going to irrevocably fuck up this kid growing inside of her.

She didn't remember her own mother, really. She faintly recalled auburn hair that framed a face that never smiled, but the face was a blur of something that looked a bit like what Natasha saw when she looked in the mirror, constructed more from a desire to remember than from an actual memory. She just remembered sadness and then fire and death.

Her father gave her to the Red Room when she was five years old. When Natasha thought about him, she remembered pain and hurt and betrayal, and more than anything else, his look of proud satisfaction when he handed over his only daughter to become a monster.

Sometimes Natasha wasn't certain she had shed the monster's skin entirely. She had left that life, even her name behind, but she still bore the scars of her parentage, the scars of her hideous fosterage, and even though she had done so much to balance her ledger, she still felt the red marks on her soul.

When she got back to the small office she and Clint shared, he was tossing paper clips into a pen cup sitting fifteen feet away. From the look of things, he had tossed quite a few and, as usual, hadn't missed the cup once. She tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

Clint watched people. Once he got comfortable enough with someone, he was open and cheery and seemed a little oblivious to the untrained eye, but she knew him well enough to know the obliviousness was an act. He always watched, observed, looking for patterns and weaknesses.

And he always, _always_ saw right through her.

His arm stilled mid-toss, the paper clip clattering to the desktop, and his brow furrowed. "Nat? What's wrong?" he asked, sitting upright.

Natasha wasn't someone who openly talked about her feelings. She could have deflected and said she was fine, but he already knew that was a lie.

So she sat down cross-legged on the floor and rested her head in her hands. "I don't know if I'm cut out to be a mother," she said, embarrassed to hear how unsteady her voice was. "I think... I think I'll be a terrible mother, and our child is going to suffer for it."

She didn't look at Clint, just listened to him rise from his creaky desk chair and sit in front of her, his knees pressed against hers. "Tasha," he said softly. "Look at me. Please?"

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head, feeling tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over her lashes again. His hands were warm and gentle against her face, and he brushed away her tears, pressing a kiss against her lips. "Natasha--" he said.

"You know that's not my name," she whispered.

"Yeah, I know, but it's who you are," he said, his tone unexpectedly intense. "I don't give a shit who you were before. You left her behind. You remade yourself, and now you're Natasha Romanoff. You're... you're my Nat, and you are not going to fuck our child up. You're not your father. You're not one of those sick fucks in the Red Room."

She looked away from him, staring at the blank wall. "With everything I've done, I don't think I can wipe the slate clean just like that, Clint," she said. "I've done things--"

"I know what you've done," he said sharply, turning her face back to his. "And I know what I've done, and it's not pretty. None of it is. But I know I feel remorse, and I'm doing everything I can to make amends. I know you are, too. Why else would you still be here? Why else would you be saving people's lives and protecting people who can't protect themselves? Jesus, Natasha, you could've run anytime in the last dozen years, but you didn't, and I don't think you stayed just because you knew S.H.I.E.L.D. would hunt you down. You stayed because we--you and me--we turned off that programming."

"It just... it eats at me. I'm afraid that," she stopped to swallow hard, "I'm afraid that we didn't turn it off, and that some day, something's going to trigger me and I'll go back to being a sociopath who'll kill for the highest bidder. Someone like that doesn't deserve to have a child. Can't be trusted with a child."

She could see the pain on Clint's face as clearly as if she had just stabbed him. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Nobody's slate is clean, Tash," he said softly, his voice rough. "But you've been scrubbing yours just like I've been scrubbing mine, and you're doing it because it's the right thing to do. You're a good person, Natasha. When you scrub away what they painted over you, you're good, and I love you for it. Being parents... it's going to take work for both of us, but we are going to love this kid, and we are going to do our best. That's all we can do."

She couldn't stop the tears then, and she found that she didn't want to. She clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from drowning, and she wept until she felt clean.

Catharsis, she thought. Natasha didn't know if she had ever really felt that before.


	4. Sensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some pleasant pregnancy symptoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 weeks, mid-May. This chapter is rated Explicit (woo hoo!).
> 
> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

"Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god ohgodohgodoh _GOD_!"

Clint pushed himself up on his elbows and gave Natasha a comically surprised look from between her thighs. She would have laughed at it if she hadn't been trying to recover from an amazing orgasm that sneaked up on her out of nowhere.

"Wow," he said. "That was... what, forty seconds? That has to be a world record for fastest orgasm. You're really revved into high gear today, aren't you?"

She unclenched her hands from the pillowcase above her head and tried to catch her breath. "I... I guess so," she panted. "I'm just... really sensitive."

He gave her a wicked grin and pressed a wet kiss to her inner thigh. "Really sensitive, huh?" he said. "So what if I do this..."

His tongue stroked lightly over her clit, tiny licks that normally would just make her squirm a little with pleasure. But now, they sent heat jolting through her body like lightning, and she grabbed the pillow again, her fingernails digging into the cotton.

And sure enough, about thirty seconds later, she was coming again, her back arching off of the bed and her legs shaking in his grasp.

When she collapsed back into the bed, Clint popped up between her legs again and grinned like he had just won the lottery. "Is this a pregnancy thing?" he asked, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. "Because if it is, that is the best side effect _ever_."

"I've... I've been kinda sensitive, but this... this is new," she said, trying to slow her breathing down.

"This is amazing," he said with a laugh, sitting up on his knees. "C'mere."

He made to pull her upright, but she hooked her feet around his waist instead. "Nope," she said, letting a lazy grin splay across her lips. "In a few months I'll have to be on top all the time. I want you on top now."

"Yes ma'am," he rumbled, lowering himself onto her carefully.

Dipping his head, he gave her a hot kiss, his tongue stroking against hers. Natasha arched up underneath him, reaching between their bodies to grasp his erection, giving him a firm stroke that made him groan against her lips.

He slipped into her easily, and her head fell back onto the pillow at how he filled her up, at the rough sensation of his pubic hair pressed against her clit.

"Jesus, you're wet," he panted, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm... really, really turned on," she replied, her voice riding close to a whimper.

The smile he gave her was so sexy that it actually made her clench around him involuntarily. He let out a little grunt and sank his hands into her hair. "Wow, yeah, you are," he gasped. "Wanna see how many times I can make you come?"

He rocked his hips a little, and her hands tightened their grip on his ass. "I don't know how much I can take," she said with a slightly desperate laugh. "Just go for it, hotshot. I'll keep up."

Planting his knees against the bed, he rocked harder, grinding against her just how she liked it. Natasha tensed, her legs tight around his waist, because even though it seemed impossible that she could be close already, she could feel yet another orgasm coiling deep in her body.

Clint shifted a bit so he could thrust in and out while his groin was still pressed tight against her clit, and it just might have been the most amazing thing she had ever felt.

"Oh god, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck _FUCK_ ," she cried, arching up hard enough to jostle him on top of her.

"Goddamn, sweetheart," he groaned, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close while she shuddered. "You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

She would have thanked him for the compliment, but speech was pretty much beyond her at that point. She just collapsed back onto the bed and let him pull her hips up onto his thighs as he sat up on his heels.

This new position was even more amazing than the last, and Natasha would have been a little worried that her grip was going to rip holes in the sheets if she had been capable of logical thought. He was hitting her g-spot from this angle, a quick drag against the sensitive spot as he pumped in and out, over and over.

"Oh god, Tash, I'm gonna come," he growled, and she didn't know if it was just the feel of him inside of her or if his voice actually set her off, but she was coming again, bucking against him.

He thrust in deep and leaned over her, kissing her hard as he climaxed, hips jerking against hers, his groans muffled against her lips.

Carefully pulling out, he scooted down and collapsed with his head on her hip, panting like he'd just run a marathon. Natasha went boneless but for the occasional shiver of sensation, and it took what felt like a Herculean effort to lift her hand and rest it on the back of his head.

"God, darlin', that was amazing," he rumbled, stroking his hand over the skin of her stomach. "I love coming inside you. I love the way you feel."

That was definitely his voice that made her shiver that time, and she looked down to see him grinning at her. She tugged gently at his hair and, pressing a kiss against the little swell of her belly, he crawled up beside her again, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him, tangling his legs with hers. "You know," he said, fingers tracing circles on her back, "I kind of wish we could've made the baby this way. I mean, not that we were trying or anything. I just... I dunno."

"Wish it hadn't been an accident?" she said softly, lacing her fingers with his.

He gave her a wistful sort of smile. "Yeah," he said. "Can't turn back time, though."

Natasha cuddled close and kissed him long and slow. "Can't look into the future, either, but you never know," she said, brushing her nose against his. "Maybe we'll do this again, on purpose."

"Maybe so," he said.


	5. Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was walking back to HQ when it happened. There was a sharp pop, and in a split second, she had instinctively taken cover behind a concrete half-wall. It was a good thing, too, because just after the first crack of gunfire, a car exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 weeks, late May. This chapter is rated Adult and contains violence and a child in danger. As always, I will take feedback and hug it and love it and call it George.

Within a couple of months of Natasha finding out, everyone knew about the pregnancy even though she and Clint hadn't actually confirmed or denied. Steve must have let it slip to one person, and that one person (probably Bruce) let it slip to someone else, and well... as gossip often does, it whipped through S.H.I.E.L.D. like wildfire.

Any agents stupid enough to make some sort of funny comment about her pregnancy soon realized their error, as Natasha was more than willing to bust their asses in the training room. She wasn't actually beating them up (though she really wanted to), but she put them through the motions so many times that one poor bastard actually cried.

No one tried to get cute after that guy, and Natasha was able to go about her business without hearing whispers about how Barton could possibly still be alive after knocking up the Black Widow. Clint thought the whole thing was hilarious, but he toned it down in deference to Natasha's... disposition.

She wasn't supposed to run or jog, and sparring was of course off the menu, but she was also supposed to stay in shape, and she had flailed around for a little while, trying to find something more interesting than walking on a treadmill or swimming laps. Bruce had suggested checking out a yoga studio he'd been going to, and she was surprised to find that she actually liked doing stretches in a room full of other pregnant women.

She was walking back to HQ when it happened.

There was a sharp pop, and in a split second, she had instinctively taken cover behind a concrete half-wall. It was a good thing, too, because just after the first crack of gunfire, a car exploded.

Everything was a blur of screams and terrified civilians and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in and out of uniform trying to find out what was going on and get things under control. Natasha wasn't armed, which in hindsight was pretty stupid of her, she thought. Between the lack of a gun and the baby inside of her, she knew she should stay under cover. She could hear gunfire somewhere in the distance, but closer, much closer, she could hear something much worse.

A child was sobbing and screaming.

Taking a deep breath, she risked a quick glance over the top of the wall and saw a little boy, maybe six years old, tugging at his mother's jacket. His mother, though, was dead, and the boy was out in the open.

She took another deep breath and vaulted over the wall, ducking her head and running hard, closing the thirty feet or so between her cover and the kid quickly. "Come on," she shouted, trying to pull the boy away.

He wouldn't let go, though, and kept screaming "mommy, mommy" over and over, and Natasha froze up. There was too much going on both outside and in her own head, and she didn't know what to do.

A second car exploded, and she yanked the kid away, tucking him underneath her body as she threw herself to the ground, trying to shield him from the shrapnel she could feel raining down on her back.

"I want my mommy," the boy sobbed, holding onto the front of her jacket.

"Ssh," she said. "It's going to be all right. Just stay with me, and you'll be all right. I'll take care of you."

Lifting her head slightly, she saw that Tony was in his suitcase armor, firing repulsor blasts at men in black masks. "Hold on to me," she whispered in the boy's ear.

He gripped her shoulders tight and wrapped his legs around her waist, and she pushed herself up, running as best she could in a low crouch back to her hiding place, and there she sat down, holding the sobbing boy tight until the gunfire stopped and the sirens started wailing.

"Natasha!"

Clint's knuckles were white, he was gripping his bow so tightly, and the color drained from his face as he ran up to her, dropping to his knees.

"I'm fine," she said, cutting off his inevitable question. "We need to find this boy's... father or whoever. His mother's there."

She pointed to the fallen woman, sprawled on the pavement in a pool of blood. Clint gave her a brief, penetrating look and then nodded, getting to his feet. She didn't watch him walk away; instead, she hugged the boy against her chest. His sobs had weakened into whimpers, but he was holding her tight, and she couldn't bear to let him go.

A while later, a man and an older couple ducked under the police cordon, weeping and horrified, and Clint gently took the boy from Natasha's arms. "It's his father," he said softly, and she nodded, wrapping her now empty arms around herself and drawing her knees up to her chest.

There were no tears, not yet anyway. She was still too shocked by the suddenness of the attack, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she realized that her hands were shaking. She had no idea how much time had passed when someone knelt in front of her, shadow cutting across her body, and she looked up to see Clint again, dirty and bruised and worried sick. "Are you okay?" he said, his voice rough.

"I'm not hurt," she whispered, because she couldn't bring herself to say that she was okay.

"Come on," he said, his voice rough. "I need to get you someplace safe."

She let him pull her to her feet, but with the surge of adrenaline gone, she found her legs didn't want to support her. Putting his bow into its holder on his quiver, he lifted her up into his arms, cradling her, and carried her up the steps into HQ.

Medics stopped them and insisted on checking them both out, despite Natasha's half-hearted insistence that she was fine. And she was fine; she didn't even have any scratches. Dr. Reyes showed up unexpectedly, tight worry-lines around her eyes, and she made Natasha lie on a bench and let her use a portable ultrasound on her. Everything was fine there, too, and Natasha released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Clint had been fighting and was a little banged up, but he wasn't badly hurt either, and the medics finally left them alone, Dr. Reyes disappearing with instructions to come see her immediately if she had any pain or bleeding.

He pulled her into his lap and sat back against the wall behind the bench, one arm locked around her body and his other hand resting protectively on her belly, and then the tears started to fall. She knew she was safe, but she couldn't shake the sight of that kid clinging to his dead mother. "Natasha," Clint whispered, clutching her to him as if he was afraid she would disappear. "When I saw you run out like that... It scared me to death, and I couldn't do anything to protect you."

"I don't know if I can do this," she cried, her hands fisting in his jacket. "I can't... I don't think I can keep things like this from happening. I know I can't, and what if the baby's born and I get hurt or killed, or what if I can't keep the baby safe? How am I supposed to deal with this, Clint? I don't think I can do this--"

"What's going on?" someone said behind her, and someone else shushed the first person.

She turned to see Tony and Steve there, Tony's clothes wrinkled and torn by his armor, Steve in civvies, both looking battered and worried. Clint gently turned her face back to his, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "Tasha, are you--" he started, but Tony interrupted again.

"Wait, she's pregnant?" he exclaimed despite Steve's pointed glare and efforts to get him to walk away. "You're pregnant, Natasha?"

"You're a little late to the party, Stark," Clint said irritably. "Are you the only person at S.H.I.E.L.D. who doesn't know?"

"Wait," Tony said again, dropping down on the bench beside Clint. "You're afraid... oh Jesus, Romanoff. Look at who has your back. We're the Earth's mightiest goddamn heroes. Banner and Thor aren't here, but I think I can speak for them when I say you have five people who have your back, and who would risk their lives to keep you safe. We're a team. That's what we do. And--holy shit, you're going to have a kid--and that's going to extend to your kid, too. You don't have to worry."

That was the single most sentimental thing she had ever heard Stark say, and it startled her out of her fear-induced feedback loop. She stared at him for a second, and then she laughed, which startled them all. "Thank you, Tony," she said hoarsely, reaching out and squeezing his arm.

He gave her a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry I wasn't up to date on the latest S.H.I.E.L.D. scuttlebutt," he said. "I've been busy lately with that deal for a tower in Tokyo, and... well. So when--"

"Can we continue this some other time?" Clint interrupted. "I'd really like to get Natasha home."

"Oh, of course," Tony said, helping Natasha to her feet while Steve hauled Clint upright. "Hell, I'll throw you two a party."

"I just want a shower," Natasha said, wrapping an arm around Clint's waist partly to steady herself and partly to support him; he was more shaken that he had been letting on. "A shower-shower, with water and soap. Not a party shower. But I appreciate the sentiment, even if I have seen your parties."

"Hey, I was in a self-destructive spiral when I threw that party," Tony protested. "I'm fine now. I swear, I won't blast holes in the walls or... whatever the hell it was I did. Wait, better idea. I'll get Pepper to throw you a baby shower."

She was a little surprised that Tony even knew what a baby shower was; she couldn't imagine he'd gone to many in his day. But he was giving her a tentative smile that made her think of what it must have felt like to have brothers, and she nodded at him, giving him a weak smile in return.

* * *

Natasha felt better when she was clean; not good, but better. While Clint was finishing up in the shower, she stood naked in front of the mirror in the bathroom and turned to the side, looking at the small swell of her belly. She had just started showing a couple of weeks before, and it wasn't even really noticeable when she was clothed.

The water shut off, and Clint emerged with a towel in his hands, rubbing at his hair. His skin was still damp and very warm, and he wrapped himself around her, resting his hands on her stomach. "I know I can't lock you away or keep things like what happened today from happening," he whispered, nuzzling her shoulder, "But I'm going to do everything I can to keep you and the baby safe. I know you can take care of yourself. Hell, you did that for years before you let me in. But I love you so much, Tasha, and I need to protect you."

She turned in his arms, holding his face in her hands. "We'll protect each other," she said softly, pressing a kiss against his lips.

She had nightmares about that little boy and his dead mother for a few weeks, but every time she woke up, Clint was beside her, his body curved protectively around hers even in his sleep.

She didn't need to be protected, really, but it was reassuring to know she had four superheroes and one man who loved her more than anything to watch her back.


	6. Walk Beside Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha needs maternity clothes and finds herself in the unusual position (for her anyway) of wanting to make a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 weeks, early June. HOORAY FEMALE FRIENDSHIP. This chapter is rated Adult, mostly for language.
> 
> I love feedback like I love hot tea and cute puppies.

It was kind of amazing how quickly Natasha’s jeans went from fitting relatively well (with the button undone) to not fitting at all.

"Dammit," she muttered, stripping them down her legs.

"Oh, is it Get Naked Time?" Clint said as he walked into the bedroom.

"My fucking pants don't fit anymore," she replied with a scowl.

Pulling her into a hug, he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "It was inevitable, sweetheart," he said sensibly. "I'm kind of surprised you managed to make them work for this long."

He grunted when she elbowed him in the gut. "What I meant was that you're still really fucking sexy, and I really want to have my way with you right now," he hastily added.

She gave him a grudging smile. "Nice save, Hawkeye," she said, and he grinned at her. "I can't put it off any longer, I guess. Gotta go shopping for maternity clothes."

"Fury's got me supervising mission prep for that thing in Guyana this afternoon."

"That's convenient," she said with a snort, and his grin turned a little guilty.

"Trust me, Tash, you don't want me helping you pick out clothes. You'll be in jeans and concert t-shirts for the next six months."

With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed and flopped back, staring at the high ceiling. "I can go by myself," she said. "It's how I usually shop anyway."

Most of the time, doing something like shopping by herself wouldn't have given her a moment's pause. She liked being alone and usually preferred it to having to put up with someone else's company (aside from Clint's). But she was feeling the very strange urge to actually have company right then, and the pregnancy hormones really were making her go crazy.

"Why don't you call Pepper?" Clint suggested. "I think she's back in New York right now."

Natasha regarded the ceiling thoughtfully. She liked Pepper. She was intelligent and sharp-witted, and anyone with enough patience to deal with Tony Stark on a regular basis was someone to be admired. They had gotten along when Natasha had been undercover as Natalie Rushman, and after Pepper had gotten over the surprise of finding out her PA was actually a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, they had parted with no hard feelings. Once everyone had moved into Stark Tower, they had formed a tentative sort of friendship that mostly involved chatting when they were both restocking on coffee and during the team dinners that Tony liked to have.

She actually hadn't spoken to Pepper since before she found out she was pregnant. Pepper had been in Los Angeles for the last few months, dealing with Stark Industries business. The more Natasha thought about it, the more attractive the idea of seeing Pepper became. 

"Yeah, okay," she said. "I think I'll do that."

* * *

Pepper sounded surprised but pleased on the phone, and Natasha was in the Stark Tower lobby half an hour later in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt that was getting a little too small, too, perched on one of the stylish but uncomfortable chairs. Not a single pair of her jeans would zip anymore, and even though she wasn't keen on the idea of shopping in yoga pants, it was better than going in jeans that were hanging open.

"Natasha!"

She looked up to see Pepper bustling into the lobby from the elevators, and she stood up from the uncomfortable chair to greet her.

Except Pepper, who was obviously trying to end a phone call with someone who wouldn't shut up, stopped dead in her tracks and nearly dropped her phone, her mouth falling open.

"Natasha, are you _pregnant_?" she exclaimed.

She nearly laughed at Pepper's reaction. "Yes?" she said, holding her hands out to frame her belly.

"Anthony Edward Stark, I am going to _kill_ you!" Pepper snarled into the phone. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Obviously Tony's answer wasn't very satisfying because Pepper hung up on him and dropped the phone into her purse with a sigh. "I swear, the company could fail and he'd forget to tell me about it," she muttered. "But you! You're pregnant! Oh my god!"

To Natasha's surprise, Pepper pulled her into a quick hug. "It's good to see you again," Pepper said.

"It's good to see you, too," Natasha replied, genuinely happy to see her.

There was a car waiting for them outside and after a quick search on her phone, they ended up at a maternity shop in midtown where Pepper proceeded to direct the sales girls with all the aplomb of a military general sending units into battle.

Which unfortunately meant that Natasha had to try on what felt like everything in the store.

She quickly drew the line at shirts that looked like flowery circus tents, and Pepper finally acknowledged that Natasha only needed three pairs of jeans with expandable waists and two pairs of trousers. But then Pepper moved into the skirts and dresses, insisting that Natasha had to have a nice dress because there were plans for ritzy dinners and other things Natasha would just as soon avoid. But she found a really nice blue dress that hugged her curves, such as they were, and so she caved.

They finally made it out of the store two hours later, so heavily laden with bags that Pepper's driver had to help bring them out and cram them in the trunk of the car. Natasha wasn't sure she needed that many tops, but at least she'd have a nice variety of clothes to wear for the next six months.

Natasha had changed into one of the soft, knee-length skirts she would never have picked out for herself but actually ended up liking how it looked on her. Best of all, it stretched comfortably over her belly, and she wasn't out and about in a nice shopping district wearing the pants she'd slept in.

"Feel up to an early dinner?" Pepper asked as they climbed into the backseat.

Natasha was actually starving, as she had been ever since emerging from the morning sickness horrors of her first trimester, and Pepper directed the driver to take them to a French bistro a few blocks away.

They were led to a sidewalk table to take advantage of the nice weather, the driver unobtrusively hanging around to do double duty as a bodyguard, and after they ordered, Pepper sat back in her chair and gave Natasha a smile that she couldn't quite read.

"So how are you holding up with all this?" she asked, and Natasha realized that smile was one of sympathy, understanding, a caring look from one friend to another.

"It's been... unexpected," Natasha answered, nodding at the waiter when he brought glasses of water and a red wine for Pepper. "I'm still trying to adjust to the idea that it happened at all."

Pepper's brow furrowed a little in confusion, and Natasha realized she'd let that slip. 'Oh, by the way, I thought I was sterilized while part of a secret Soviet black ops program' isn't exactly something Natasha would lead a conversation with, and aside from the people who had access to her files and Clint, she had never told anyone else.

But Pepper was her friend, and Natasha was suddenly aching to share the secret with someone else, someone who would understand, someone who wouldn't use the knowledge against her.

So she took a deep breath and spilled the story. For her part, Pepper hid her shock and horror at what was done to Natasha well; it only showed in the way she gripped the stem of her wine glass and how she would bite the inside of her lips during a particularly unpleasant part.

The waiter came back with their food as Natasha was wrapping it up (she gave Pepper the condensed version, because there were things that she hadn't even told Clint, and those would definitely ruin lunch), and they sat in silence for a few minutes, Pepper playing with her _salade niçoise_ while Natasha tucked into her _poulet roti aux herbes_ with a gusto that was probably inappropriate considering what they had just been talking about. She couldn't help it; Clint ate like a horse, and it was obvious that eating for herself and Clint's offspring both meant she needed to pack away the calories.

"This really was a surprise, then," Pepper finally said, spearing a piece of seared tuna on her fork.

Natasha swallowed her mouthful of chicken. "I'm sorry if that was too much--"

Pepper was shaking her head, though. "No, it wasn't too much," she said, giving Natasha a little smile. "It's just... awful that someone would do that you. But I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me."

Natasha smiled back, feeling a little off balance but pleased. Deciding to share something that personal with Pepper felt like taking a flying leap off of a cliff. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and she had to trust that the parachute on her back would open in time.

"I think I'm adjusting to it pretty well, all things considered," Natasha said. "I'm not sure if it's actually sunk in that I'm going to have a kid soon, though. The physical part is the strangest. I'm... just not used to my body doing stuff like this."

She gestured at the swell of her belly, and Pepper let out a little laugh before taking a bite of her salad. "Yeah, the whole bump thing has always been weird to me," Pepper said. "I mean, I know it's completely natural and women have been doing it for tens of thousands of years, blah blah blah, but... the idea of having a growing baby in there kind of freaks me out. But I think I might want a baby sometime soon. Tony, on the other hand, is completely grossed out by the idea and is probably rightfully terrified at the thought of turning into his own father."

That made Natasha grin again. "I can understand that," she said, "But I think Tony's a little too self-aware now to turn into his father. Clint hasn't talked about it, but I think he has some reservations, too. But he's mostly excited, and I'm glad. He's making me excited."

"I'm glad, too," Pepper said, giving her a genuine smile.

They passed the rest of dinner talking about nothing, and though Natasha had never liked small talk, this wasn't small talk. It was a conversation between friends.

She liked that.


	7. Clint Jr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Clint find out what the baby's going to be and pick out a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 weeks, late June. This chapter is rated Teen & Up. Also PHEELS. Feedback will be fed cupcakes and told that it's very loved.

Dr. Reyes smiled and wielded her ultrasound wand. "Are you two ready?" she said, sounding insanely cheerful.

Clint was practically bouncing in his seat like a little kid and Natasha smiled. "Ready when you are, doc," she said, and this time managed to not jump at the gel's coldness.

For about half an hour, the doctor stared at the screen and wrote things down, and Natasha grew progressively more bored. She knew this ultrasound was to check the baby's anatomy and all of that, but she wanted to see what was going on, or at least see it and have Dr. Reyes explain what the hell she was looking at.

"All right, the baby is very cooperative!" the doctor said, and Clint jerked out of a doze. "And also very healthy. Everything looks wonderful. Now, do you want to know the baby's sex?"

"Yes!" Clint exclaimed before Natasha could even open her mouth; it was a good thing they had already discussed this before the appointment, or Natasha would've had to hurt him.

The doctor let out a startled laugh. "Then let's take a look," she said and turned the monitor so they could see.

Dr. Reyes pointed out the major features, all of which were present and perfectly normal. "And if you look here, you'll notice something that's not there. It looks very much like you will be having a girl!"

Natasha's heart jumped into her throat; a girl, just like her, and she had to mentally shake herself, because this girl wasn't going to have a childhood like hers. Her daughter was going to be happy and safe, and Natasha was going to do everything to make sure that happened.

"I _knew_ it!" Clint exclaimed. "I knew it was going to be a girl, Nat!"

"Did you?" she said with a grin.

"Yep, I had a gut feeling," he replied, bounding to his feet to shake off some nervous energy. "I knew we'd have a beautiful little girl who looks just like you, and you know my gut feelings are always right."

The doctor looked like she wished she had a video camera to capture this, and Natasha felt like she was in the middle of a greeting card commercial or some damn thing. Clint grinned at her, and she felt herself blush a little at his effusiveness.

"Sorry, doc," Clint said, and then he bent down and kissed the hell out of Natasha.

When he finally pulled away, she was more than a little flustered and flushed, and Dr. Reyes was laughing. "Here," the doctor said. "I'll print out a photo so you can take it home with you."

"I'm gonna frame that," Clint said. "Wait, no. I'm gonna make a dozen copies and plaster them all over the tower. Each floor's gonna have a picture of our daughter right by the elevator."

Natasha covered her face with one hand to muffle her laughter. "You're going to creep Stark out," she said. "He's kind of weird about the pregnancy thing."

"That just makes it even better."

* * *

Later that evening, Natasha stood on the balcony, letting the wind whip her hair and clothing, and she cupped her hands under the small swell of her belly.

Clint's excitement had been infectious, but now that she was alone and quiet, the excitement tapered off a little, and she felt... pensive.

A girl. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what her daughter would look like, whether she would have red hair or Clint's brownish blond, green or blue eyes, her serious expression or the hint of mischief that glinted in Clint's eyes.

She didn't try to picture her own mother or father; they were long gone, so far removed from her life that when she thought about it, they really didn't matter. She took a deep breath and let the final tatters of their memory go.

She didn't know if she could ever let go of everything that had been done to her, but she was beginning to realize that the edge was gone from many of those memories. They were no longer sharp and cutting; even a few of the worst memories felt dull and blurry. She realized that they couldn't hurt her any more than they already had if she didn't let them.

Maybe she was ready to bring a child into the world.

Clint was sitting in the living room, and he turned off the television when she came back inside. "Hey," he said with a slightly tentative smile. "You okay?"

She smiled back and settled on the couch beside him, tucking herself against his side. "Yeah, I'm good," she replied. "I was thinking about names."

"Already? You work fast," he teased.

"Like you haven't been brainstorming names."

"Well, I had Clint Jr. in mind, but since it's a girl..."

She let out a huff of laughter, and he squeezed her shoulder. "I was thinking," she said, and damn those pregnancy hormones but she got a little choked up. "We... um. We should give her an important name."

"What do you have in mind?" he asked softly.

"I was thinking of Philippa," she said. "For Coulson. Since he, um, since he did so much for both of us."

Clint smiled a little, and she knew he was running through his own past in his mind, thinking of the second chance Coulson had given him when he thought he had nowhere else to go and nothing else he could do with his life. Clint had given her the second chance, but Coulson backed him and talked Fury into deprogramming the dangerous young assassin. Coulson had helped her just as much as Clint had; those two were her handholds when she pulled herself out of her past and became Natasha Romanoff.

"I think that's perfect," he said.

Before she could catch herself, a tiny sob escaped her, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Shit," she said. "Am I going to cry this whole damn pregnancy?"

He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "It's kinda cute," he said and held his hands up when she glared at him. "Come on. I never get to see you cry, Tash. It's kind of nice to know you can do it. Makes you more human."

"Have you thought the rest of this conversation through, Barton?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "This could go very badly for you."

"I promise, I won't tell anyone," he said, trying for a serious expression that was ruined by the quirk to his lips. "Your secret is safe with me."

She glared at him for a few more seconds, but it was hard to pretend to be mad at him when he was looking at her like she was the best thing in the world. "Jackass," she said fondly, and he pulled her in for another kiss.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I love you, too," she said. "Against my better judgment."

"Hey now," he said, putting a mock-offended hand to his heart. "I'm absolutely lovable. Eminently lovable. I'm the most goddamn lovable guy you'll ever meet, princess."

Natasha laughed, shifting so that her legs were slung over his lap. "Well, I was going to agree with you until you called me 'princess,'" she said.

"Wanna watch a movie with me?" he asked, stroking a hand over her leg and up under the hem of her loose skirt.

"Are you planning on going any farther north with that hand?"

"Maybe," he said with a grin. "I thought we could start a movie and then make out like teenagers."

His hand crept a little farther up her thigh, and she smirked at him. "Just make out?"

His grin grew wider. "Whatever you want, beautiful."

"Okay. What movie?"

She got a kick out of watching the cogs turn in his mind, trying to swiftly switch gears from sex to other topics of conversation. "Well," he said, squeezing just above her knee, right at her ticklish spot, and making her squirm. "We haven't watched _Up_ in a while."

"Don't you _dare_ put that movie on, Clint Barton. I am not going to cry just so you can watch me and think I'm adorable or whatever."

He threw his head back and laughed. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said. "How about _Die Hard_?"

"Only you could go from Pixar to 'Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,' Clint."

"That's why you love me."

They ended up forgetting about the movie.


	8. The Honeymoon Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second trimester is called the "honeymoon trimester" for a reason, as Tony unfortunately finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 weeks, mid-July. This chapter is rated Explicit for sexing, aw yiss. Feedback will be cuddled and given hot chocolate.

One of the pregnancy websites that Clint had bookmarked called the second trimester the "honeymoon trimester." During her first, morning-sickness-ridden trimester, she'd laughed unpleasantly at that idea. But like clockwork, the second trimester rolled around and she was ready to hump the furniture.

She already had a very healthy libido before she got pregnant, but the same hormones that caused crying jags during sappy commercials also sent that healthy libido through the roof.

This led to many instances of jumping Clint and screwing him senseless in inappropriate locations.

She had been watching Clint run a self-defense refresher course at HQ, and that was a mistake. When he was grappling with another agent, Natasha found herself staring at his arms. The hold he was using made his muscles stand out, gorgeous corded forearms and the solid mass of his biceps and triceps, and she couldn't help thinking about digging her fingernails into those arms as he fucked her.

He happened to look over at her right at that moment, and that was how the class ended early and Clint and Natasha ended up having sex on a bench in the locker room.

Since they were in a locker room, she didn't bother with stripping either of them naked. She just pushed him down on his back on the bench and yanked his shorts down around his ankles. He was already stiff, and it sent a thrill through her to know she could turn him on just by looking at him with that heated glint in her eye.

She had luckily chosen a skirt that day, so it was easy to tug her panties off and straddle his hips, sinking down onto him in a very wet glide.

"Holy shit," Clint hissed, his hands clutching at her hips. "Nat, someone could walk in--"

That protest ended on a strangled groan as she started rocking against him, holding onto those strong, sexy arms. It only took a few seconds for him to give up on his fear of becoming an unintentional exhibitionist, and then his hands were sliding underneath her shirt, up to cup her sensitive breasts.

"Oh _god_ ," she moaned, squeezing him tight inside of her. "Oh god, yes..."

It was quick and dirty and so fucking hot, and in no time at all, she was arching her back, gripping his arms hard enough to leave bruises and trying to stifle her cries as she came. Clint's hands dropped back to her hips, and he fucked up into her hard and fast until he climaxed with a low groan, biting his bottom lip to keep from shouting as he usually did.

They were panting and just starting to laugh when the door swung open and Tony walked in.

"Oh shit!" he and Clint exclaimed at exactly the same moment, and Natasha quickly tugged her shirt back down to cover the more important bits.

"Oh... _god_ , you're having pregnant sex," Tony said, covering his eyes with his hand. "Shit, sorry, but you know you're in a public space, right?"

"Jesus, Stark, could you go the fuck away?" Clint retorted. "We're kind of having sex here."

"I can see that! But... I was jogging here while the gym in the tower is repaired, and I need to hit the showers--"

"Then hit the damn showers already!"

"You're gonna damage that kid if you keep doing that kind of thing. You know I can hear you when you're screwing out on the balcony--"

"Tony, we are not going to hurt the baby while having sex, and if you don't go away right now, we are going to fuck again right here in front of you," Natasha said.

His hand came down just enough for him to give her a wary look; he always took her threats seriously. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, wouldn't I? I'd even take my shirt off so you'd get a good view of my bump while I'm riding--"

"Oh _god_ , I'm going! I'm going!"

He quickly disappeared into the closest shower stall, and she looked down to find Clint biting his own hand to keep from laughing. Grinning at him, she carefully got up and ducked over to the toilets to clean up.

When she came back to the bench (which would forever be The Bench Where They Had Sex), Clint was closing his locker, his bag tossed over his shoulder. "Wanna go home and pick up where we left off?" she said, making sure she was loud enough that Tony could hear.

"Barton, I still don't understand how you survived getting her pregnant in the first place," Tony called over the sound of the water turning on. "Doesn't she devour her mates or something?"

"The last person to make that joke lost his toenails," Clint said, grinning at her. "And you bet she does."

They left the locker room to a sound that might have been Tony's laughter but might also have been retching. Whatever it was, she didn't care.


	9. Dad Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha feels the baby move for the first time, and Clint has a heart to heart with her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24 weeks, late July. I nearly called this The Quickening, but that sounds way too much like something Highlander-related. ;) This chapter's rated General. Feedback is welcome to crash at my place any time. :D

Natasha knew her body very well. She knew its normal state, and she was excellent at being able to tell when something wasn't right.

So when she felt a weird flutter in her stomach, she immediately knew it wasn't something normal, like gas or hunger or whatever.

It made her stop dead in the middle of the corridor, and it was a second before Clint and Bruce noticed she wasn't beside them anymore. "Nat?" Clint said curiously.

"Wait," she replied, leaning against the wall and putting a hand on the swell of her belly.

And there it was again, a strange, bubbly sensation low in her stomach. She couldn't feel it like a kick from the outside, but it was definitely movement, and she had definitely just felt the baby move for the first time.

The look on her face made Bruce wary. "Uh," he said. "Are you okay? You look kind of... well..."

"I think the right word would be 'happy,'" Clint said with a grin. "Did the baby move?"

"The baby moved," she said, grinning back at him, and he let out a whoop, punching the air.

"Can I feel it?" he exclaimed, doing a little hopping dance of excitement over to her.

Oh, and then it was time for the letdown. "Sorry," she said, patting his arm. "I don't think you'll be able to feel anything for a few more months."

His face fell like she had just told him Christmas was cancelled. "Aw, damn," he said.

"You'll just have to be patient a little while longer," she said soothingly, falling back into step beside the guys. "I promise, I'll let you spend hours with your hand on my stomach when the baby's big enough to feel."

Bruce gave them a sad sort of smile; she had the feeling he was thinking about the kind of life he didn't think he could ever have, and Natasha realized she understood Bruce a lot more than she thought. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to... hug him or something. Pregnancy hormones were making her crazy, she decided. She settled for reaching out and giving his arm a brief squeeze of encouragement, and he gave her a surprised but pleased smile.

"So are you going to find out if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked. "Or do you want it to be a mystery?"

Clint glanced at her first, and when she nodded, he burst out with, "It's a girl!"

Bruce laughed. "Congratulations," he said, smiling at them both again. "So I guess now it's time to start buying princess stuff--"

Clint cleared his throat very pointedly. "Cutting you off right there, sir," he said, slipping his hand into Natasha's. "We will have none of that gendered toy crap in our family. Right, Nat?"

She stifled the urge to laugh; he had actually been listening to her rants about all of the pink and blue junk on the baby aisles, and she felt kind of proud of him. "Right, Clint," she said with a grin.

"She will be an archer like her father," he said solemnly.

"Oh god," Bruce said with a laugh. "Will she be a comedian, too? Because I don't think I can handle two Bartons running around here."

Bruce rode the elevator with them up to the private levels of Stark Tower, leaving with a wave and a little smile on his floor. Clint and Natasha rode in comfortable silence up to the top floor. "Wanna watch a movie or something?" Clint said, stepping out of his boots.

Toeing off her flat shoes, Natasha stretched and rested her hands on the small of her back. "I dunno," she said. "I might take a nap. Supporting the development of your child is pretty tiring."

He grinned at her then, the warm, private smile he gave her every time he was reminded that he had put that baby in her. It made Natasha laugh, and she slipped into his arms, kissing his cheek. "I might head in there in a little while," he said, stroking her back with his thumbs. "You go nap. Recharge for more baby growing."

And she apparently was very tired, because she tugged off her jeans and curled up against her body pillow and was out like a light. At some point, she felt the bed dip and woke up, but it was Clint, crawling in beside her and spooning her, so she quickly drifted back off.

The next time she woke up, blinking into the afternoon light dimmed by the helpfully automatic windows, she had rolled onto her back. At first, she wasn't sure why she had awakened, but then she heard a soft murmur and lifted her head a little.

Clint was crossways on the bed, his head propped up on one elbow, and he was... talking to her belly.

"When you're big enough, I'll make you a bow and teach you how to shoot it," he whispered, and Natasha bit her lip. "It'll be awesome. Trust me. Oh, and I'll play my old Springsteen records for you. I kept an old turntable just in case. You're gonna love The Boss, Little Phil."

"Little Phil?" she said softly, and he started a little.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Tash."

"It's okay," she said with a smile, and he crawled back up so he could wrap his arms around her.

"Phil... yeah, I think it's a good nickname for her," he said, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"I like it. What were you talking about with Little Phil?"

"Just stuff," he said, and she grinned at his sheepishness. "Dad stuff."

"Like Springsteen?"

"Of course. Any child of mine is going to have good taste in music. And you're going to like Springsteen better than that electronic stuff your mom listens to, aren't you, Philly?" he said, pushing himself up enough to rest a hand on Natasha's stomach.

Almost as if in response to Clint's words, she felt that same little flutter of movement, and she laughed, her head falling back onto the pillow. "What?" Clint said, grinning down at her.

"I think she disagrees with you," she replied, stroking her belly.

"Did she move again?"

"She did."

"I'll bet she was agreeing with me."

"Pfft," Natasha scoffed. "Philippa, do you like my music?"

Another flutter that made her laugh again, and Natasha smirked up at Clint. "Whatever," he teased. "I'll bet she's not even moving. You're just saying that."

"Keep telling yourself that, Barton."


	10. The Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's body just doesn't feel like Natasha's body anymore. Thor pays a visit to Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26 weeks, mid-August. This chapter is rated Adult. As always, I love feedback!
> 
> A bit of an explanation for what Thor does at the party: For simplicity's sake, I've borrowed from SidheRa's canon for Stumbling Home (with permission) and have given Frigga healing powers. Yay for Hive Mind borrowing!

Through an act of flexibility and extreme determination, Natasha managed to zip up her dress on her own, thank you very much. Clint was still in the shower, having dashed into the apartment ten minutes before. "Sorry," he had called, hopping past her on one foot as he yanked his socks off. "Training ran late!"

Her makeup was already done, and she pulled loose the pin that had been keeping her hair out of the way during the zipping adventure. Her hair had been growing faster during the pregnancy, and it was well past the bottom of her shoulder blades. She couldn't remember ever wearing her hair that long before. It was feminine, softening her a little bit, and even though that was strange to her--she could easily pull off feminine, but soft wasn't something that she pulled out of her repertoire very often--she liked it.

She pinned a lock of her hair back and left the other side down, curls sweeping over her shoulder. Earrings were next and then the matching bracelet, and she had just leaned into the mirror to check her eyeliner when Clint came barreling out of the bathroom, his grey dress shirt half-tucked into his black trousers, his black waistcoat on but not buttoned, and a sock on one foot but not the other.

"Shit shit," he muttered, scrubbing a towel over his hair for a second before flinging it back into the bathroom. "What time is it? How much time do we ha--"

He skidded to a stop, a sock dangling from his hand, and stared at her open-mouthed. With a smirk, she perched her hip on the edge of the dresser. "Yes?" she said.

His mouth still hanging open, he stared at her for a long second more, and then he crossed the distance between them in two strides, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her senseless.

Laughing, she managed to wrestle out of his grip. "What's got into you?" she said, grinning at him.

"You," he said, sliding his hands down her bare arms, "Are the most beautiful woman in the world."

That wasn't something he'd never told her before, and she'd always accepted the compliments gracefully, but for some reason it really struck her right then. She had always been aware of her attractiveness; it was part of her arsenal, something she could use against people, but when Clint told her that she was beautiful, she never really agreed with him.

And she hadn't felt particularly attractive lately. She was in her sixth month now, and her body finally looked _pregnant_. It wasn't her body anymore, and even though she liked the longer, softer hair and a few other benefits, she just... didn't feel like herself. She looked in the mirror and didn't see the Natasha she was used to. She saw a round, growing belly and breasts that were becoming unwieldy, a body that couldn't do what she was supposed to do anymore.

"No," she protested, trying to disengage from his embrace. "No, I'm not."

"Are you kidding?" he said with a short laugh. "Look at you, Natasha. You're amazing."

"No," she repeated, frustration building in her. "No, I'm... fat and round, and I'm not myself--"

"Tasha," he said softly, and she made herself take a deep breath before she looked up at his face.

Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her a little smile. "I know that this is weird for you," he said, "But sweetheart, believe me. I think you're gorgeous."

"Why?" she said, firmly convincing herself that now was not the time for a hormone-induced crying jag. "My body doesn't feel right anymore. My center of balance is off, and I'm carrying so much more weight than usual. It's... nothing works the way it should anymore. I just don't feel like myself, and I don't... I don't feel gorgeous right now."

Clint was quiet for a long moment, his thumbs tracing tiny circles on her cheeks as he looked at her, and then he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. "I'm going to tell you all of the reasons why I think you're beautiful right at this very second," he said. "And you don't get to argue with me about it until I'm done. Deal?"

She let out a little huff of laughter. "Deal."

He gave her a thoughtful once-over, and then he smiled a little. "Your hair is long and soft, and I love the way it feels when I touch it," he said, running his fingers over the lock swept across her forehead. "Your skin... it's like it glows, and I love just watching you when you're puttering around here naked."

Natasha could feel a blush starting in her cheeks, but when she tried to duck her head, to unpin herself from his gaze, he caught her with a finger underneath her chin. "And your eyes," he continued, stroking her cheek. "They're so gorgeous, sweetheart, and I love how green they are when you're wearing dark makeup like this. But they're really green when you wake up in the morning and blink at me, too, and I love them.

"I've always loved the curve of your back," he said, running his hand down said back and making her shiver. "And your breasts. I mean, how could I not love your breasts, especially now? Goddamn, woman."

Tossing her head back, she laughed, and he leaned in to steal a kiss. "And your smile," he said with a grin. "I love how you smile at me, because it's like a secret. You never smile like that at anyone else, just me."

He made to step closer to her, but he ran into her bump. She sighed, thinking the moment was broken, but Clint kissed her again, resting both of his hands on her swollen belly. "And I love this," he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. "I love seeing you all round because I know that's our baby in there. You're showing the world what we made together and that we..."

Trailing off, his cheeks colored a little bit, and she slid her hands up to his shoulders. "That we what?" she whispered, her heart thumping fast.

Dipping his head, he gave a little shrug before looking back at her, looking as shy as she had ever seen him. "That we belong together," he said simply.

* * *

They were twenty minutes late to dinner, but Natasha didn't care. She'd had to get dressed again because... well, her dress pretty much flew off after Clint's little speech, but that was okay. He was walking close by her side, his shoulder bumping against hers, and he looked ridiculously handsome in his waistcoat and tie, and she couldn't stop grinning.

Tony gave them a knowing look from the bar, and when they went over so Natasha and Pepper could give each other a hello hug, he smirked widely. "I see you're wearing that belt I got you, Barton," Tony said, swirling scotch around in his glass. "But I guess it didn't help keep your pants up like I'd hoped--"

"You walked in on us once, Stark," Clint retorted evenly. "You're gonna have to let it go, man. And anyway, it's not like I can knock her up even more."

He grunted when Natasha elbowed him in the ribs, and Pepper rolled her eyes. "You're not that late anyway," she said. "Thor's just on his way now, so you're right on time. Oh, and there's someone you should meet."

She waved, and James Rhodes waved back, saying something to a tall blonde woman who was at the window beside him. Natasha turned to watch them cross the room, and Rhodey's face went from friendly to shocked in about a tenth of a second; it was almost cartoonish, and Natasha stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Pepper sighed. "Tony, did you forget to tell someone else about the bun in the oven?" she said, exasperated, and Tony made a few sputtering, apologetic noises.

"Natasha!" Rhodey said, hopping up the steps to the bar and kissing her on the cheek before shaking Clint's hand. "Are you smuggling basketballs now?"

She laughed and patted her stomach. "As entertaining an idea as that may be, nope," she replied. "This is, in fact, a baby."

“Never thought I’d live to see the day,” he said with a laugh. “I’d make a crack about Clint still being alive, but I don’t want to endanger myself.”

“Smart man.”

“Oh, here,” Rhodey said, motioning to his companion, who was watching their back and forth a little awkwardly. "This is Captain Carol Danvers. Carol, this is Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton."

Natasha recognized that name; Carol Danvers was an Air Force officer who'd been working with Rhodes on testing some of Tony's new suit designs. Fury was determined to recruit Danvers to S.H.I.E.L.D. since the CIA had been sniffing around her, and finding her here made Natasha think that he just might have succeeded.

"Nice to meet you, Captain Danvers," Natasha said and held out her hand.

She had a solid handshake, and Natasha could instantly tell that she was strong as an ox, as if that weren't obvious from the sleek muscles that her black dress really didn't hide. "Please, call me Carol," she said with a friendly smile as she shook Clint's hand. "I have to admit, I feel a little starstruck, meeting Hawkeye and the Black Widow. Avengers, wow."

Clint grinned widely as Tony made a disgruntled noise. "What am I, chopped liver?" Tony protested.

"Oh, you're Tony Stark," Carol said, waving her hand at him. "I got used to you ages ago."

Their banter was interrupted by Thor's booming laugh, and everyone turned as a unit to watch him come through the elevator door like a force of nature. He still looked like a god, even dressed in what had to be the biggest suit Armani had ever cut, and he gave everyone a gleaming smile. "Friends!" he called, striding forward with Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis trailing behind him, trading amused looks. "I am pleased to be back on Earth!"

"Nice to see you, too, Hercules," Tony said. "Now, meet, greet, and then let's eat. I'm starving."

Everyone had already milled over to the table by the time Thor actually got to Clint and Natasha. Clint had pulled her chair out and was helping her sit ("For god's sake, Clint, I can do it on my own--") when she heard an intake of breath that probably could've sucked up a small child.

They looked to the left to see Thor standing there, looking flabbergasted. "Natasha!" he exclaimed. "You're with child!"

Clint gave her a little grin and took the chair beside her, leaving her to deal with Thor. "Yes, I am," she agreed.

Thor came over and knelt beside her chair, taking her hand in what looked like it was going to be an extremely chivalrous gesture, and Natasha braced herself for a big speech or something.

Instead, he smiled gently at her. "May I?" he asked, nodding to her belly.

It was actually a relief that he thought to ask first. Natasha had instinctively nearly broken a junior agent's arm when she touched her stomach without permission, and ever since then, everyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. had given the bump a wide berth. (There were still the occasional old ladies at the market, but Natasha didn't try to attack them.)

When she nodded, Thor put his huge hand across the fullest part of her stomach, and she felt a strong flutter of movement from the baby in response, strong enough to make her suck in a breath in surprise. Thor's smile grew wider. "You will bear a strong daughter," he said softly.

"How do you know that?" Natasha gasped, and Clint leaned close with an expression of great surprise on his face.

With a final rub on her belly (and a resulting kick from the baby), he sat back on his heels, smiling at them. "My mother, the lady Frigga, possesses powers of healing, and I have inherited some of those powers," he explained. "Not enough to heal a fellow warrior in battle, but I can feel the health and life energy of a person when I touch them."

"Wow," Clint said. "That's handy. You're like a walking, talking ultrasound machine."

Thor's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar term. "It lets doctors build a picture of an internal structure using sound waves," Bruce explained, taking the chair beside Natasha.

"Ah, I see," Thor said. "That is a useful invention, and I am continually impressed by the cleverness of humans."

"Thanks," Bruce replied, and Natasha shared a grin with him.

"Dinner!" Tony called out over the table, and Thor stood up to go to his chair but leaned close to Natasha and Clint again.

"I know that children are abundant here, but on Asgard, they are a rare blessing," he said, clapping Clint on the shoulder. "I am pleased for you both, and I wish you the greatest joy."

With that, he went to his seat on the other side of the table, leaving the two of them looking at each other. "I'd be surprised, but Thor does weird shit all the time," Clint muttered, and Natasha chuckled. "Oh, if he can read bodies, does that mean no more turn my head and cough?"

Bruce snorted into his glass of water, and Natasha rolled her eyes fondly at Clint.

* * *

The rest of dinner was actually fun, and Natasha found herself feeling glad that their team had worked so hard to finally become a team, not a bunch of strangers thrown together but a cohesive group of people who had become friends.

Steve and Carol Danvers laughed at something Tony said at the other end of the table, and Thor was in the middle of a story about fighting ice giants. Bruce was talking about the time he had to unexpectedly deliver a baby while he was in Calcutta, and Clint was listening to him with great intensity; Natasha wondered if he was listening so hard so he would know what to do if he had to deliver Philippa himself.

She sat back in her chair, resting her hands on her stomach. This didn't feel like her usual body, that much was certain. But, she thought, maybe that was all right. Clint looked at her like he didn't see any of the things that bothered her, or perhaps more accurately, like he saw all of those things and loved her anyway.

And like Thor said, she was carrying a strong daughter. A few stretch marks and some waddling was a small sacrifice to make to bring that strong little girl into the world.

  
[Fan art by Taka.](http://brbshittoavenge.tumblr.com/post/42710468531/omg-guys-this-is-my-commission-from-the-amazing)


	11. Late Night Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing Clint loves Natasha, because otherwise who'll drive her to a Russian bakery at 4 am?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28 weeks, late August. This chapter is rating Teen. The pastries they're eating are shamelessly ripped from the menu at Piroshky Piroshky in Seattle. If you're ever at Pike Place Market, omg, get food there. I thrive on feedback! <3

“Clint.  Clint, wake up.”

Clint bolted straight upright in bed beside her, his hands scrabbling at the covers.  “What?  What is it?” he exclaimed. “Is everything okay?  Lights!”

The bedside lamps switched on, and Natasha tried not to laugh at the wide-eyed, slightly panicky look on his face.  “Please don’t kill me,” she said, “But I’m really, really craving some borscht."

The panic drained from his expression, leaving more than a little grumpiness in its wake. "You want some what?" he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. "Borscht, what the hell is that?"

"It's a soup," she said, "Made with beets and stuff. It's Russian."

That made him cock an eyebrow at her. "Tasha, you never eat Russian food," he said slowly.

"I know. But I really want borscht."

Sighing, he swung his legs out of the bed. "Nat, it's 4 in the morning," he grumbled. "Where the hell am I s'posed to find Russian beet soup at 4 in the morning?"

"I dunno. I guess if you can't find that, some pirozhki would be good."

"I know I'm going to regret this but what's a pirozhki?"

"My god, Barton, you've been to Russia how many times and you don't know what pirozhki are? They're buns with stuff in them."

"Again, where am I going to find these things at 4 in the morning? And what kind of stuff do you want in them?"

"Ooh, there's actually a diner in Hudson Heights that's open 24 hours and has good pirozhki."

He turned to look at her then, giving her a tired grin. "You don't eat Russian food, huh," he said.

She shrugged. "I like pirozhki."

"And Hudson Heights, Jesus," he complained, but it was half-hearted at best. "It'll take twenty minutes to get there. Can't you just crave pickles and Cherry Garcia or something that's easier to pick up in the middle of the night?"

"At least I'm not asking you to go to Brighton Beach in Brooklyn. That's where the other bakery I know is," she said, and he grimaced theatrically. "And I'd like... mushrooms and cheese. If it has extra stuff, that's good, too. Oh, and if they have any coffee cinnamon rolls or... ooh, chocolate hazelnut cream rolls, grab a few of those, too. And remember the borscht if they have it."

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled, getting up and pulling on a pair of jeans. "I hope you appreciate the crap I do for you."

"You know that I do," she said with a smile. "Now, go get me some food."

He was shaking his head as he walked out of the bedroom, but she could see the little grin on his lips. "Clint, wait," she called, tossing the covers off of her legs.

Poking his head back in the bedroom, he raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, your highness?" he said.

"Smartass," she replied. "I'll go with you. I can eat it there."

He blinked a little, but shrugged. "Okay."

She quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and one of Clint's old Springsteen shirts, now stretched well beyond recovery by her belly, and pinned her hair up in a messy bun, topping it off with a headband to hold back what the pins didn't catch.

When she came out of the bedroom, Clint blinked blearily at her. "You're sure you desperately need Russian stuffed buns?" he said. "You don't want to crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more hours?"

"C'mon," she said, kissing him on the cheek and stepping into her flip flops.

* * *

No one else was in the diner, but the man behind the counter greeted them cheerfully and set them up with what must have looked like a ridiculous amount of food to anyone not familiar with Natasha's metabolism.

Clint had a bottomless cup of coffee (thankfully Natasha's stomach had stopped rebelling at the smell), and he eyed the pile of pirozhki with an expression that sat somewhere between appalled and intrigued.

She polished off her mushroom, chicken, and cheese pirozhki first, washing them down with a cup of tea with a dollop of strawberry jam in it. She really didn't know where the Russian food craving came from, but she supposed that was just part of being pregnant. The diner didn't have any borscht, though the look on Clint's face when he saw it would probably have been hilarious.

"What's in that one?" he asked, pointing at a bun on her plate.

"Sauerkraut, carrot, cabbage, and onion," she replied, smirking when he quickly drew his hand back and made a face.

"How about that one?"

"Ham, egg, and cheese."

That seemed to ring his bell, and his fingers inched toward the pirozhki. Stifling a grin, she smacked his hand, and he let out a clipped yelp, giving her an offended look. "Aw, c'mon," he said. 

"You're going to take food from your hungry, pregnant partner? Really, Clint?"

"Hey, I bought that," he griped, but he grinned at her when she pushed the plate across the table to him.

He dug into the bun with a gusto that was almost obscene, and she couldn't help indulging in a private little smile. She really did love him, even without the pregnancy hormones, but the hormones had turned her into a sap about it. If she got all sappy watching him eat, obviously something was screwed up in her brain.

"I've been getting frustrated lately," she mused, and Clint looked up from his pirozhki, his brow furrowed.

"About what, babe?"

Sighing, she leaned back in the booth, poking at the remains of a chocolate hazelnut cream roll with her fork. "I've been reading those books you've been buying," she said, and the corner of his mouth turned up at the mention of the pile of baby and parenting books he'd been accumulating in the last couple of months. "Everything conflicts with something else. Whose advice do you take? I mean, I don't know anything about raising a kid, but I don't know which parenting expert to trust."

The waiter brought out another cup of tea for her and refreshed Clint's coffee, and she waited for him to disappear back into the kitchen before speaking again. "I'm just... I'm still worried about fucking up," she said softly, rubbing her belly when Philippa jostled around in there. "So I read those books, but none of them agree with any of the others. How do you know what to do? It's not like I can work from experience with my own parents or anything."

Clint was silent as he doctored his coffee, and he took a long pull from the cup before looking back up at her. "Well, neither can I," he said. "You know what my dad was like. And Mom... she was just kinda lost, you know? She tried her best, but Dad was drunk all the time, and she really couldn't wrangle me and Barney without help. And Dad beat her up as much as he did us. It was just... bad."

He had told her this story before, but it still made her ache every time to hear it. She couldn't help picturing him as a little boy, cowering in fear of his own father, his body bruised. She wanted to go back and time and hurt his father for bringing such misery to his family. Slipping her feet out of her flip flops, she put them in his lap, pressing down against his thighs, and he gave her a little smile then.

"I dunno," he said, turning his mug around and around in his hands. "I guess you just have to wing it and hope for the best. I mean, at least we know what not to do, right?"

That made her laugh, and maybe he was right. There were just too many variables to deal with, and some stranger, even if they were an expert in parenting, just couldn't give perfect advice to every family. There couldn't be one right way to raise a child. They would have to muddle through, adapt as they went along.

"Here," she said, stabbing a piece of her sweet pastry. "Try this."

He ate the bite off of her fork and made a show of moaning in pleasure at the taste.

"You think we're going to do okay at this?" she asked quietly.

Swallowing his bite, he reached across the table and took her hands. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

She took a deep breath. "Okay."


	12. Closing the Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony shows a sudden and unusual interest in baby things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 weeks, early September. This chapter is rated Teen. Feedback will be cuddled and given hot chocolate.

"Foxes?" Clint said, looking dubiously over Natasha's shoulder at her laptop screen.

"Do you have something against foxes?" she replied. "I like that painting."

"Eh, not really," he said. "I just thought Clint Jr. would have hawks in her bedroom."

The look she tossed over her shoulder at him made him laugh. "And why not spiders?" she retorted.

"Because you hate spiders. That's the very definition of irony, you know," he said, dodging her elbow jab. "And I like the painting, too. So what, we're going to design a nursery around a painting?"

"Sort of," she said. "What do you think about this crib and changing table?"

"Um, they're nice?"

He put his hands up when she turned an exasperated look on him. "Tasha, babe," he said with a laugh. "You saw my old apartment. I am not the person to pick out furniture."

"Yeah, that couch was green plaid, wasn't it?" she snickered.

"It was in surprisingly good shape for being found on a curb," he replied easily. "You have to acknowledge that."

"You can dumpster dive with the best of them, Clint."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

* * *

Tony was in the lobby when Natasha went to meet the delivery guy. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she explained the private elevators, and when Delivery Man went back outside to load up his hand truck, Tony struck.

"Hey, Romanoff," he said, much too casually.

"Hello, Stark," she replied.

"So... what did you buy?" he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Baby stuff?"

"Mm-hm. Crib. Changing table. Rocking chair. The usual."

When she and Delivery Man were in the elevator, ready to go upstairs, Tony suddenly hopped in just before the doors closed. "I'll go, too," he said, smiling charmingly. "I want to see what this crib looks like."

Delivery Man looked rather starstruck, riding in an elevator in Stark Tower with Tony Stark himself, and his request for an autograph for his six year old daughter who loved Iron Man kept Tony from giving Natasha the third degree about the baby furniture. She was kind of mystified as to why he was interested, since he had never shown the slightest interest in her pregnancy other than to wince when he saw the ultrasound photo Clint had taped up in the elevator.

Clint looked up from a report when they got off of the elevator and hopped up to help Delivery Man unload things. He shot a quizzical look at Natasha and jerked his head toward Tony, and she could only shrug in response. That was their Secret Spy Code for 'Beats the hell out of me.'

"So which room are you going to turn into the... baby... room?" Tony said.

"The nursery?" Natasha supplied, and Tony made an 'ah, that's it!' face. "The room at the end of the hall."

"Ah, good choice, good choice."

He trailed along behind her as she followed Clint and Delivery Man to the future nursery. Only one wall in the room was actually paintable, thanks to Tony's preference for ultra-modern concrete walls in his building, and they had a couple of cans of paint and some brushes stacked against that wall. Otherwise, the room was empty, a blank canvas waiting for them to turn it into their daughter's space.

"Did you buy a baby monitor yet?" Tony asked.

"Nope," Clint replied, carrying one end of the crib box.

"I can build you the perfect baby monitoring system," he said excitedly. "JARVIS, how would you like to be a nanny?"

"I'm not sure that's part of my programming, sir. Though I could adapt the applications I use to keep track of you," JARVIS replied.

Natasha stifled her laugh, and Delivery Man looked between them all, not sure how to react to a computer making fun of Iron Man. Tony shrugged at him and pulled a few bills out of his wallet, giving him what Natasha could see was a very generous tip as he left the room with his hand truck.

"Jesus, Tony, that was a big tip," Clint said, running his hand back through his hair and making it stick up.

"Yeah, well, guy's got a kid to feed."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Natasha leaned against the wall and fixed Tony with her patented penetrating stare. "Okay, Stark," she said, and his eyebrows went up in vague alarm. "'Fess up. What's going on? Why are you so interested in the baby proceedings?"

Clint moved to corner Tony and gave her a wink. "Yeah, this isn't like you," he added, crossing his arms, too. "What gives, Stark? Did you look at the ultrasound one too many times and finally caved and fell in love with our baby?"

Natasha had a different suspicion, though, and while she would normally have talked about it with Pepper first, she just couldn't pass up the opportunity to make Tony cringe. "Pepper's pregnant, isn't she?" she asked bluntly.

Clint's eyebrows crawled up his forehead, and Tony actually went white. "Good god, no!" he exclaimed. "Don't spring stuff like that on me, Natasha. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"So she's not?"

"Of course not!"

"But?"

Tony looked extremely cagey for a second, and then he glared at her. "I swear, you're a fucking mind reader," he said. "We're talking about having kids at... some indeterminate time in the relatively near future. She wants a baby. And I'll have you know I'm blaming this all on the two of you--"

"She wanted kids way before I got pregnant," Natasha interrupted.

"Oh? Oh. Well... yeah, we want kids. And I thought... maybe I'd better familiarize myself with all this..." he waved a hand around at the boxes, "Stuff."

He looked so lost and uncertain, and Natasha cracked. "Want to help Clint put together the crib after we've painted?" she asked.

A grin split Tony's face. "Sure," he said. "Need help painting, too?"

"Nah, Bruce offered to help with that," Clint said.

"Ah, that's cool," Tony said with a nod. "So Bruce is into the babies thing, too?"

"I don't know about the babies thing, but he's into the helping friends thing," Natasha said, and Tony gave her a sheepish little grin.

"I do want to help," he said. "And not just because of Pepper's baby thing. I know this is a big... thing for the two of you, and since you're my friends... Well, let's just say that Pepper has kept a tight leash on me, because I've been really tempted to just buy all this nursery stuff for you. She told me that wasn't really my place or my decision, but yeah."

Natasha exchanged a surprised glance with Clint. "Wow, Tony," Clint said. "That's... wow."

"That's really generous," Natasha said. "We appreciate the thought, but I can only imagine what a nursery designed by Tony Stark would look like."

He laughed at her teasing. "I had envisioned something that probably would have ended up looking like it fell out of the TRON universe, and I don't think that's really your style."

"Not really," Natasha agreed blithely, and then she walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "But we really do appreciate the thought."

Tony glanced down at the floor, his cheeks flushing a little at the rather uncharacteristic bout of effusiveness, and then he looked back and forth between them. "Well, I'm off to go research baby monitoring technology," he said cheerfully, and Natasha hid a grin at the obviousness of his escape strategy. "Let me know when you want to put together cribs, Barton."

He disappeared out the door with an absentminded wave, leaving Clint giving Natasha a rather bemused look. "What was that about?" he asked once they heard the elevator chime.

Natasha looked at the open door for a moment, running through the last two years in her mind. When she first met Tony Stark, he was lost; he was dying and didn't know what else to do but self destruct. She knew his history, knew his childhood, his problems with his father, his complete and utter lack of intimacy with anyone. But she had watched him change ever since then, watched him let Pepper in first and watched as he opened up to the rest of the team bit by bit.

It had been hardest with Steve, for obvious reasons, and also with her. He liked her, but it had taken him a very long time to trust her, even though he knew why she had deceived him. They were friendly, but there was always a measure of distance there.

This gesture... it felt to her like this was his way of crossing that distance.

"I dunno," she replied.


	13. A Serious Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha wakes to find Clint having a much more serious discussion with her belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 32 weeks, late September. This chapter is rated General. Hold onto your feels. Feedback warms the cockles of my heart.

Little Phil was busy growing and exploring her environment via ninja kicks to various internal organs, and as a result, Natasha was finding it more and more difficult to sleep.

Which was vexing, as she really enjoyed sleeping.

She finally managed to get comfortable on her side with a pillow underneath her belly and another between her knees, and the baby even relaxed enough for her to get about six hours of delicious, uninterrupted sleep.

It took a moment for her to wake up fully, and she blinked into the pale light of dawn. She was warm but not too warm, and after a second she realized that Clint wasn't in his usual spot against her back.

He had moved in front of her, his head even with her belly, and he was talking to the baby again.

"My dad wasn't very good at it. He was drunk most of the time, and he used to hurt me and my brother," he whispered, and she felt her chest clench. "Our mom wasn't very good at it either. But you know what? I'm not going to let that happen to you, baby."

He paused for a second, and she could hear him breathing, could hear the pain and the determination in each breath he took. She had to close her eyes against the sudden burning of tears.

"Little Phil," he finally continued, gently resting his hand on the curve of her stomach, "I'm going to be the best dad in the world, because you're my daughter and you deserve the best of everything. And your mom is going to be amazing, even if she's afraid she won't be. Neither of us had it good when we were kids, but you're going to. Because she loves you more than anything, and so do I."

A choked little sob escaped her throat, and she cursed the pregnancy hormones once again. Clint looked up at her, his eyes glinting a little in the low light, and she gave him a watery smile, reaching down to hold the hand that was on her belly. "You are," she said softly. "You're going to be a great father."

He smiled back at her, a little curve of his lips, and he rested his forehead against her belly. The apartment was quiet but for the muted hiss of the air conditioning and the sound of their breathing, and Natasha had just dozed off again when the baby gave a particularly energetic kick.

Clint jumped, pushing himself up on his hand and looking up at her wide-eyed. "What?" she asked.

"I just felt... Did she just kick?"

"Yeah, she likes to let me know when she wakes up," she said, a grin spreading across her lips. "Did you feel it?"

Clint looked like Christmas had come early. "I felt it! She kicked me right in the head!" he said, letting out a little whoop of joy. "Oh my god, can you make her do it again?"

Laughing, Natasha propped herself up on her elbow and felt around on her belly. "Sometimes I can get her to move if I poke..." she murmured. "Ah, here, I think this is her butt. Put your hand here, and--"

She poked, Philippa kicked, and she thought Clint might actually float off of the bed, he was so delighted. Grinning hugely, he crawled up and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her soundly. "That's amazing, Tash," he said between kisses.

"I'm glad you can now share the joy of being kicked with me," she replied wryly. "If only I could get her to kick your bladder, then it would be perfect."

"I am unfortunately not a seahorse, so there will be no bladder kicking for me," he said, smiling so hard that his eyes were crinkled. "I can't believe she kicked me in the head. She's obviously your daughter."

"She obviously knows how to handle her father."


	14. Sexual Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy hormones cause a little uncharacteristic drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 35 weeks, mid-October. This chapter is rating Explicit for sexytimes. Feedback is the icing on my cupcake.

Unfortunately the size of Natasha's belly (which had now reached epic proportions, or at least she thought so), the soreness of her back, the swelling of her ankles, and the sleeplessness caused by in utero acrobatics, among other things, had done nothing to stifle her libido.

They just made it a lot more difficult to have sex.

So when she wandered into the bedroom one evening and found Clint on the bed, naked but for a ridiculous grin, she had a frustration-induced breakdown.

"No!" she cried rather dramatically. "I'm a whale!"

Clint's reaction was what one might expect from anyone seeing Natasha crying things out dramatically; he stared at her with his mouth hanging open in shock.

"What?" he said, sitting up. "Nat, no you're not--"

"Yes, I am! Don't lie to me to make me feel better, Clint."

On a logical level, she knew she was being silly. She wasn't a whale; she was just pregnant, and that was going to be over soon enough anyway. But her hormones were raging and everything felt out of her control. She felt huge and frustrated and ready to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry, even though she really didn't want to.

"Natasha," Clint said, hopping off of the bed. "You know I don't lie to you--"

Crossing her arms in the only spot she could (in the narrow zone underneath her breasts but above her belly), she turned away, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window instead of looking at him. She knew he wasn't lying; he had proved to her over and over that he still thought she was hot and that he still wanted to get naked with her pretty much any time, but she just felt like shit. She was tired and uncomfortable and ridiculously horny, and sex was such a production that she just didn't have the energy for it.

His hands were strong on her shoulders, their warmth seeping through her sweater, and she couldn't help leaning back against him when he stepped in close behind her. When he pressed a kiss against the curve of her neck, desire surged and she made a frustrated noise.

"Shh," Clint whispered. "C'mon. Sit down and I'll rub your back, sweetheart."

She wasn't going to say no to a backrub even if she was intensely sexually frustrated. He helped her sit on the edge of the bed, which would have normally irritated her (she loved him but he was very much a mother hen), but she liked the feel of his hands on her. When she had crawled into the middle of the bed and crossed her legs so her belly would have somewhere to rest, he settled behind her, tugging at the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head.

He unfastened her bra next, and she tugged it off, dropping it to the floor beside the sweater. And then his hands were on her skin, working at the tired muscles, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her feel like she would melt into a puddle.

And she really didn't mind when the backrub started including little kisses pressed against her skin, a nibble here and there along the line of her shoulders, and before she knew it, she was panting and biting her lip as he sucked gently just below her ear.

"Can I make love to you?" he murmured, and the breath left her lungs in a shaky sigh.

"I'll hurt you if you don't," she replied, and his low laugh made her tingle all over.

He tugged her jeans and socks off and skimmed her panties down her legs. When she leaned back onto her elbows, he gave her a particularly wicked grin before disappearing behind her belly. She had just started to laugh when she felt his hot tongue sneaking between her folds to lap at her clit.

The noise she made could be best described as a squeak, and she collapsed onto her back, shuddering as he licked at her. "Oh... oh _god_ , I need you inside me," she panted.

They worked together to get her situated, pillows in all the right places to keep her comfortable, and then he pressed himself against her backside, letting her feel how much she had turned him on. "God, you're so sexy," he groaned, sliding his hand down her thigh. "I want you so bad, Tasha."

Pushing her hips against his, she snaked her arm back around his waist to grip his ass. "Yes," she breathed as he lifted her leg up and slowly slid inside of her.

It was slow and delicious and intimate, and Natasha couldn't even remember why she didn't feel like having sex with him in the first place. It was always good, _always_ , and she shuddered when he slipped his hand between her thighs to tease her clit.

Twisting as far around as she could, she caught his hair in her fist and drew his mouth to hers, the kiss growing harder and more passionate the closer he brought her to orgasm.

She finally had to break away from his lips, gasping for breath, and he pinned her underneath his gaze, not letting her look away as she shook and spasmed and moaned his name. She loved it like this, loved _him_ like this, when he was determined to wring every shiver of pleasure out of her body, determined to make her know that she was his and he was hers.

"God, I love seeing you come, Tasha," he whispered, his breathing going unsteady. "I love taking you like this, baby, love knowing that you're mine. You're so fucking beautiful like this--"

His hand slid up to cup the lower curve of her belly, and she leaned in to kiss him again, sucking at his lower lip and setting her teeth into it. He let out a low groan, pushing deep into her, and she murmured encouragement as his thrusts went uneven.

"Want you to come inside of me," she purred, tugging at his hair. "God, Clint, I'm yours... I need to feel you come--"

He let out a hoarse shout, going stiff behind her, his hips jerking erratically, and she moaned at the feel of his cock pulsing deep inside. He pressed his forehead against the back of her shoulder, groaning her name over and over, shuddering hard a few more times before his body relaxed. 

Natasha felt boneless; she was pleased and happy and content with Clint still buried inside of her, his arm draped over her stomach and his lips brushing against her skin. "Feel better?" he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't get cocky, Hawkeye," she replied, reaching down and entwining her fingers with his.


	15. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 37 weeks, late October. This chapter is rating Adult for violence and language. Feedback is the cream in my coffee!

Everyone has a breaking point.

Natasha always prided herself on being independent. She learned from an early age (perhaps too early) that she had to fend for herself. She could depend on no one to take care of her, and so she learned to take care of herself.

She could depend on Clint, of course. He'd proven himself worthy of her trust and her confidence over and over in the last dozen years. But that didn't mean that she wanted to depend on him for anything, much less everything.

And it meant that he was driving her absolutely insane trying to do everything for her.

Natasha's breaking point was when she was shifting furniture around in the nursery. She was nesting (at least that was what she assumed the bizarre urges to clean everything and buy fluffy blankets and bright pillows were), and the crib was in the absolute wrong place. The morning sun would creep right into the spot where they had put it originally, and that just wouldn't do.

Clint came in while she was dragging it across the floor, having rolled up the rug and nudged it out of the way. She'd already moved the rocking chair and ottoman to a better spot and put a nice ficus she'd found at Ikea in Brooklyn in the far corner.

"Nat, what are you doing?" Clint exclaimed, rushing over to pull the crib out of her hands. "That's way too heavy! Here, you sit down and let me move it for y--"

"Jesus _Christ_ , Clint, I am not helpless!" she snapped, grabbing the crib's frame again. "I can pull a fucking crib across the room. I don't need you to do everything for me."

In the irritated glance she gave him as she started pulling again, she could see shock and hurt in his expression, and a little part of her felt bad for blowing up at him, but she didn't understand why he couldn't see that his constant hovering was making her crazy. He always read her so well, so why the hell did he have blinders on now?

"I'm just trying to help," he said, his tone sullen and offended.

Clenching her teeth, she pushed the crib up against the wall and waddled over to kick the rug back into place in the middle of the room. "You're acting like I can't do anything," she retorted, studiously not looking at him as she rearranged the little nook of floor cushions by the bookcase. "Yeah, so I'm having trouble getting up off of the couch, but I can pick things up and cook and... and... wipe my own ass without your help. I did it for a long time before you came along--"

"So what, you want me to back off?" he said sharply. "You want me to leave you alone? Because I can do that. For fuck's sake, Natasha, I just want to... do _something_ , but I can't do anything without pissing you off. What the hell do you want me to do?"

She clenched her fists at her side, taking a couple of deep breaths to try to fight back the tears suddenly stinging her eyes. He didn't understand, and she just didn't want to have to explain it to him. Why should she have to explain it when he'd known her for so long?

So instead of responding, she walked out of the room.

"Natasha!" he snapped, but she ignored his footsteps behind her. "Goddammit, Natasha, don't walk away from me!"

She spun back to face him, snatching her coat off of its hook. "No," she snarled, glaring at him. "No, I'm going to walk away because if I don't, I'm going to say something that I'll regret. I'm going for a walk, and I don't want you to follow me."

The elevator door opened a few seconds after she jabbed the button, and she left Clint standing there, looking like there were a million things he wanted say but they were all stuck in his throat.

* * *

"Hey," Bruce said as she stormed out of the elevator past where he and Steve were talking in the lobby. "Um... you okay?"

Natasha forced herself to stop walking and take a deep breath. "Yeah," she said. "I'm fine."

Bruce raised his eyebrows at her, his mouth twisting a little into his 'I know that's bullshit but I don't know if I want to call you on it' expression. Steve, meanwhile, gave her a small, sympathetic smile, and she deflated.

Of course she would run into the two nice guys on the team.

"I'm... just frustrated," she said evasively. "I'm going for a walk to clear my head."

"Mind if we go with?" Steve asked. "You look like you could use a little friendly company."

She didn't want company, but when Steve turned on the puppy dog eyes, she couldn't say no. "Yeah," she sighed. "Okay."

She pulled her coat on and wrapped the scarf that was stuck in her pocket around her neck. It was late October and the weather had turned brisk and cold, perfect for helping her cool off her temper. Bruce and Steve had obviously been outside before she ran into them, because they both had jackets on already, and they followed her as she ducked out the back entrance onto Park and made for 42nd Street. Bryant Park was a few blocks away; she liked sitting outside the library and watching people as they wandered around the park.

The guys chatted quietly as they made their way through the crowds on the sidewalk, and Natasha was grateful they didn't try to force her into their conversation. She felt that growing sensation of having a family again, one that she and Clint had sort of fallen into, and while five years ago she would have preferred to be alone, now she found their presence comforting.

The trees were brilliant in their fall colors. Steve bought coffees for himself and Bruce and a hot chocolate for her, and they all claimed a table at the library's outdoor cafe, settling down and warming themselves up with their drinks.

"So," Bruce said after a few moments of comfortable silence. "What happened?"

She looked up to find both of them staring at her rather pointedly. "There's no point in pretending nothing happened," Steve added. "It's pretty obvious that you're pissed off about something, and since you usually go to great effort to hide it, I'm going to hazard a guess that you're really upset."

Her mouth twisted into a frown, but he was right. She was upset, and she was having trouble keeping up her usual inscrutable exterior. And they were her friends; she had grown to trust them enough to let them see her emotions, so to block them out now felt like a betrayal.

"Clint is just..." she began, then swallowed those words and tried to find better ones. "It's me. I can't deal with him right now. He's... gotten overprotective, and he's smothering me. He hardly lets me pick up a... book, for god's sake, and I hate that. I don't need to be babied. I'm not helpless, and I don't know why he suddenly thinks that I am."

Steve and Bruce exchanged a glance that made her feel like they knew something about Clint that she didn't. When she scowled at them, Bruce put up his hands. "Natasha, I'm not sure he thinks you're helpless," he said. "Maybe it's more--"

The sound of car doors slamming distracted her, and she turned to look over her shoulder toward 42nd Street. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve doing the same thing, his hand moving to the shoulder holster under his coat.

"What is it?" Bruce asked quietly, noticing their reactions.

"Don't know," Steve muttered, and she heard a click when he thumbed open his holster strap.

She had a holster sewn into the lining of her coat; the tailor had looked at her like she was crazy, but he had rigged it up so she could carry a Glock 26 on her at all times. After the attack in front of HQ, she wasn't going to get caught unarmed again.

When she slipped her hand into her coat to carefully tug the gun free, the baby went tense inside of her, as if she could sense Natasha's wariness. Natasha ran her other hand over her belly, trying to get Philippa to relax, trying to somehow tell her that she was going to keep her safe no matter what.

Someone at the other end of the long library patio let out a clipped scream, and Steve and Natasha had their guns out and ready in a heartbeat. "Get down," Steve said sharply, and Natasha knew it was stupid to argue with him. She was nearly nine months pregnant and so far off her usual game that it would have been suicide to not take cover.

Bruce grabbed her arm, and they crouched behind a concrete planter. It wasn't the best cover, but they were caught in the open with a lot of civilians nearby, and they had to make do with what they could find. Steve took a few, long strides forward, and that was when the gunfire started.

Later, Natasha realized that she couldn't really remember most of what had happened. At first, Bruce kept her pinned against the planter so she wouldn't do something stupid like run out and start shooting. She couldn't see Steve, could just hear the sounds of fighting and exchanges of gunfire amidst the screams of the people in the park and Bruce's attempts to keep his breathing calm.

What she did remember, though, was when a squad of black-masked men came up from behind them, from 40th Street instead of 42nd. A shot pinged off of the concrete planter, sending shards slicing into their clothes and faces, and for a split second, she looked at Bruce's face and watched him lose his grip on himself.

Green spread across his skin and his body expanded, and no matter how many times she had watched him turn into the Other Guy, it still terrified her. Her heart leapt into her throat, pounding so hard she thought she might throw up, and Phil kicked sharply, obviously picking up on Natasha's fear.

"Shh, baby, it's fine," she whispered, holding her belly, her eyes not leaving Bruce's as he grew huge and monstrous.

Bruce groaned, a low rattle of a sound, and he leaned forward to rest his weight on his knuckles, huge hands on the concrete on either side of her. "Keep... safe..." he growled.

The masked men started shooting again, bullets slamming into Bruce's back, and Natasha curled in on herself, trying to shield the baby, her gun still clutched in her hand with the safety on. Bruce roared in pain and anger, making Philippa jerk violently inside of her, but he didn't move from his crouch over her. She had expected him to do his usual thing and smash the hell out of the guys, but he stayed where he was, taking the bullets so he could protect her.

Sirens were screaming, but the world narrowed down to her little safe spot, hidden underneath the Hulk's body, and she wrapped both arms around her belly and talked to Phil, reassuring herself as much as the baby that everything was going to be all right.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but suddenly someone was shouting her name into the shocked silence of absent gunfire.

Hulk came up then, moving just enough so that Natasha could see Maria Hill and Carol Danvers running up the steps from the park. Bruce roared at them, stopping them both dead in their tracks, and Natasha quickly hauled herself to her feet, reaching up to put a hand on his massive fist. "It's okay," she said. "Bruce. They're friends."

He looked down at her, breathing hard, and then relaxed slightly, letting them approach. "Are you alright, Romanoff?" Hill asked, holstering her gun and wiping a smudge of blood from her forehead.

"Yeah, I think so," she replied. "The big guy is fine, too, I think."

Hill nodded brusquely, but Natasha could read relief in her expression. "Danvers, keep the area secure so medics can check them out," she ordered, then put her hand to the comm in her ear. "Report on the situation at Stark Tower."

Natasha's heart was in her throat again. "What happened at Stark Tower?" she demanded as Hill walked away.

"Let's go over to the steps," she said. "Rogers is already there with the medics."

"Carol, what the hell happened?"

She looked rather unnerved with the Hulk hovering at her back. "It looks like this is part of a targeted attack against members of the Avengers team," she said quietly. "We aren't sure which group the attackers are affiliated with, but they hit HQ and Stark Tower first, and then they hit the three of you here. They didn't get past the tower's security measures, but it looks like they knew they wouldn't because they attacked the restaurant on the ground floor."

Steve was listening intently as they walked up, and he reached out to help Natasha lower herself to the steps as Bruce sat with a heavy thud behind them. "Is anyone hurt there?" he asked before Natasha could lose her temper.

"Some civilians were injured," Carol answered. "We're not sure how many or how badly yet. Stark and Barton came down to help security deal with it."

"Are they hurt?" Natasha asked, surprised that she could keep her voice even.

"Yeah, but not seriously," Carol said, watching Natasha warily. "Tony took a hard hit and got knocked out, and I think Clint just got grazed a couple of times, but... I'm not sure."

One of the medics knelt in front of Natasha and started inspecting the bleeding cuts on her face from the concrete shrapnel. "Oh this isn't bad," he said, swabbing at a stinging laceration on her cheek. "I'll clean it up and slap a bandage on it. How's the baby feeling?"

Natasha winced as he squirted antiseptic onto the cut. "She's moving around a lot," she said.

"Any unusual pain or cramping?"

"A little?" she said. "It feels like Braxton-Hicks contractions, but--"

"Okay, we're going to move you to HQ to get checked out," he said, helping her to her feet. "Don't want to take any chances, right?"

She didn't want to go to HQ. She wanted to get back to the tower and find Clint as fast as was humanly possible, but just as she was about to protest, she felt another crampy contraction. "Fine, but make it fast," she said shortly.

* * *

Natasha and Steve coaxed Bruce into the back of a S.H.I.E.L.D. van for the short ride to HQ after Carol promised to keep them updated on the situation at the tower. The med unit was full nearly to overflowing with both agents and civilians hurt in the attack, and Dr. Reyes met Natasha at the doors, putting her in a wheelchair and hurrying her into her office.

During the exam, Natasha kept checking her phone over and over, waiting for a message from Carol or Clint or _anyone_. She knew she needed to stay calm, but not knowing exactly what had happened was killing her.

"Everything looks fine," Dr. Reyes said after she had checked pretty much everything Natasha could imagine was able to be checked. "She's still antsy in there, but you're not going into labor. The contractions are probably Braxton-Hicks, and I'm not seeing any cervical dilation."

"Great, can I go back to the tower now?" Natasha said.

Dr. Reyes looked a little surprised. "You should be fine, but I think everything's locked down because of the attacks."

Natasha closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, reminding herself that it wasn't Dr. Reyes's fault. "Can you do me a favor and call up Director Fury?" she said evenly. "I really need to get back to the tower."

"Sure thing," the doctor said, and Natasha could tell she knew exactly why she needed to get back there so badly.

When she disappeared into her office, Natasha swung her legs off of the exam table and tapped out a quick message to Steve. A minute later, he was knocking at the door. "Everything okay?" he asked, helping a now-human and exhausted-looking Bruce into the little exam room.

"Yeah, we're fine," she said. "Are you two--?"

"We're good. Just a little banged up."

"We need to get home," was all she said next, and they both nodded at her.

"Hill told me that they're restricting access to all of the attack sites."

"Then I'll have to yell at Fury until he lets us go."

Steve let out a huff of laughter, and Bruce gave her a tired smile. "We'll figure out a way. I haven't heard back from Carol yet--"

"Director Fury's given you permission-- oh, um, I suppose he's given all three of you permission to return to the tower with an armed escort," Dr. Reyes said as she came back into the exam room. "Guards are on their way here now."

Bruce and Steve stepped back out, and Dr. Reyes helped Natasha slide down from the table. "If you have any unusual pain or bleeding, or if things just don't feel right, call me immediately," she said. "You have my mobile number. Call me at any time, okay?"

"I will."

* * *

The ride back to the tower was shockingly quick, what with traffic being blocked off after the attacks, and Natasha held onto Bruce as Steve argued with the agent in charge so they could get inside.

"How are you holding up?" Bruce asked her quietly.

"I'm okay," she murmured back, fisting her hand in the back of his shirt. "Just... worried. Bruce... thank you. And the Other Guy. For keeping us safe back there."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her temple. "You don't have to thank me. Or the Other Guy," he said. "Neither of us want you or the kid to get hurt, Natasha."

She had to blink back tears as Steve came back to where they stood, and she squeezed Bruce around the waist in silent thanks. "Okay, they're letting us in," Steve said irritably, sending a glare back at the agent. "Let's go."

There were paramedics rushing in and out of the restaurant, and though Natasha wasn't usually squeamish about blood or gore, she had to look away as they brought out a man who'd been shot. It made her feel ill not just because he was so badly injured, but because her imagination was running wild, putting Clint's face in place of the man's, and if she didn't get some reassurance that he was okay soon, she was going to have a full-blown panic attack.

The lobby was in shambles, and they carefully picked their way around busted furniture and rubble from a smashed decorative column. "Agent Sato said Tony and Clint are being held for observation in the security office," Steve said, nodding to a couple of haggard security guards as they passed. "Apparently they're having a hard time keeping both of them there."

"Was Pepper in the building?" Bruce asked, and Natasha shook her head.

"She's in Los Angeles--"

"Get the hell out of my way, Sitwell!"

They were down the hall from the security office, and suddenly they could hear a heated argument. "Barton, you need to calm down," Agent Sitwell said back, his voice raised.

"Fuck this, I'm walking through that door, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Steve gave Natasha an alarmed look and rushed ahead to defuse what sounded like a fight about to start. When he pulled the door open, Clint and Agent Sitwell both came tumbling out. Steve caught the back of Clint's shirt and yanked him upright, pushing him out into the hall as he steadied Sitwell with the other hand.

There was a livid bruise on Clint's cheekbone, and the long sleeves of his shirt had bloody tears in the fabric, but he was up and fighting, and that meant he was okay. Natasha wondered for a second if it was possible to feel so relieved that you would pass out, but then Clint looked down the hall and saw her.

She had always thought descriptions of the world narrowing down to just two people and the gaze between them were ridiculous and rather purple, but she honestly didn't see anything but Clint's bruised face and the expression of shocked relief in his eyes.

He crossed the distance between them in four long strides and wrapped himself around her, and she didn't even care how awkward the embrace was with her belly stuck between them. She clutched at him and buried her face in his shirt and was suddenly sobbing with relief.

"Oh god, Natasha," he mumbled, pressing his face into her hair, his voice unsteady. "Are you all right?"

She vaguely heard Bruce shepherding Steve and Sitwell back into the office and closing the door, but she couldn't be bothered about what they were doing. Clint was alive and safe and in her arms. "I'm fine," she whispered back, reaching up to catch his face in her hands. "You?"

There was a crooked, tearful smile on his face, and he kissed her carefully. "Just some bruises and scrapes," he said, gently stroking his thumb under the bandage on her cheek. "God, Nat, I was so fucking scared. Tony and I were fighting those guys, and I heard about the attack at the park over someone's radio, and... Jesus."

"I'm fine," she repeated. "And so's Phil. Bruce kept us safe, and then the medic made me go to HQ to get checked out, and they wouldn't let me come back here to find out what happened to you. I've never been so damn scared in my life, Clint."

He kissed her again, a long, slow, grateful kiss, and she never wanted to let go of him ever again.

They ended up sitting in the floor in the hall, backs against the wall, her head on Clint's shoulder and his hand on her stomach. The baby had finally calmed down a bit and was idly nudging at where Clint's hand rested, making him smile every time she kicked.

"Tash," he said into the quiet, brushing his nose against the top of her head. "Tasha, I'm sorry about earlier."

"Stop," she said, and she felt him tense up against her. "You don't need to apologize. I just need to explain why I got angry."

His body relaxed, and he pulled her a little closer to him. "Okay," he said simply.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain how it made her feel when he babied her and wouldn't let her do anything, like he didn't think she could take care of herself, and how much that bothered her because of how she valued her independence. Clint listened silently, rubbing her stomach and pressing the occasional kiss against her hair, and when she finally ran out of words, he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said. "I don't think you're helpless at all, but... I just feel useless."

"Useless?" she repeated, sitting up so she could look at him. "You're not useless."

"But you're doing all the work," he said. "All I do is... get you water or weird food in the middle of the night. I want to do more, but I don't know what else to do other than... help you sit down and stand up and fetch things, move furniture, all that stuff. And stuff like what happened today... Nat, it scared the shit out of me to think that something might've happened to you. I just... I want to protect you."

Natasha took a deep breath again, twining her fingers with his where they rested on her belly. "I think I understand," she said. "But... you can't treat me like I'm made of glass. I do need some help now, but I need to know that you haven't forgotten that I can take care of myself."

"Of course I haven't forgotten," he said. "But this is our baby in here, and I just need to feel like I'm playing an active role in this. I don't want to be the dad that sits around and does nothing while you do all the work. I want to be part of this."

It was like she had turned a flashlight on inside his mind, and she suddenly understood why he had been mother henning her so badly. "You're not going to be your father," she said softly, and his chin went up a little, like she'd just hit him in the emotions. "You're not, Clint. And you are part of this. I'm... glad you want to help me. But sometimes I need to do things for myself. Can you back off when I need you to?"

He nodded, his lips pressed together, and she leaned in, cupping his cheek, so she could give him a long kiss. "I love you," she whispered, and he smiled at her.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," he said.

"We'll have to keep up this compromise when Little Phil's born," she said with a half-grin. "Neither of us can take care of her alone. We'll have to work together. I'll nurse her and you can change all the diapers."

Hearing Clint's laugh made her feel better, and she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. It had felt like their partnership, the easy balance they had built over so many years, had gotten off kilter. They were both stubborn and reticent, and if they had just talked this out weeks ago, it would have saved them both a lot of frustration.

But things were in balance again. Despite everything that had happened that day, Natasha found she could breathe easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG one chapter left. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's been following this story! I really appreciate your comments and kudos!


	16. New Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BABY TIME. Of course it has to happen right in the middle of a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 39 weeks, early November. This chapter is rated Adult because I can't remember how much cursing there is in it. ;)
> 
> And oh my goodness, it's the end! Once again, thank you so much to the Hive Mind for encouraging me and fixing my mistakes and holding my hand throughout the long-ass writing/revision process. And huge thanks to everyone's who's commented or left kudos on the fic. I've loved hearing what you guys think about the story, and I'm all happy and glowy that so many people like it. :D

Philippa Katherine Zoya Romanoff Barton was born on November 13th.

(It amused Clint greatly that such a tiny girl could have so many names.)

Here's what happened:

It was the 39th week of Natasha's pregnancy, and she was basically ready to pop. The baby had dropped, and if she thought she was waddling before, she was really waddling at that point. But being Natasha, she kept up with work, because it would have taken two very strong men with a crowbar to pry her out of her office at HQ. Not even Fury's glare could make her go home and rest.

Going home and resting while S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to figure out who was behind the recent attacks sounded like hell to her.

So when the mystery group launched an attack on the Brooklyn Bridge, presumably as a ploy to draw the Avengers out, she and Clint were right there and ready to direct Steve, Thor, and Tony as they suited up and headed out.

"You sure you don't want to sit this one out?" Clint asked quietly.

Natasha shook her head. "No, I'm fine," she replied. "Pull up the satellite feed."

Half an hour into it, after cops had cleared the bridge of civilians and half of the Avengers were busy kicking ass, Natasha's water broke.

 _Well_ , she thought. _This is inconvenient._

She'd had some contractions that morning, but they weren't bad and weren't close together. Dr. Reyes had mentioned that she'd feel more contractions anyway, so she hadn't worried. She was beginning to regret that lack of worrying.

Clint was busy calling patterns out over the comms and letting the guys on the bridge know where the next wave was coming from. Bruce was bent over a monitor, hunting for the submarine they believed was serving as the attackers' base. And she had surveillance photos of the new weapon the attackers were sporting, and it was her job to figure out what the hell it was going to do and how they could disable it before it did whatever they intended it to do.

No time for labor.

"Stark, I've found their sub," Bruce said suddenly another half hour later. "It's in the damn Upper Bay, right off Governor's Island. They have some kind of cloaking device on it--"

"What are they, Klingons?" Tony replied, and the sound of a repulsor blast came through the comm.

Natasha had been staring at the power source for the weapon for a while, unable to figure out where it actually got its power, but suddenly it clicked. "Stark, you've gotta take it out," she said sharply. "They've somehow connected that cannon to the sub. They've been charging it up while their fighters distract you--ah!"

Unfortunately a particularly strong contraction hit right at the end of that sentence, and Clint and Bruce both looked over at her in concern.

"Roger that," Tony said, and the satellite feed up on the large viewscreen showed him peeling off from the fighters and diving into the bay.

"Nat?" Clint said, "...are you in labor?"

Well, that cat was out of the bag. "Um... yes?" she replied, panting a little at the discomfort.

"Jesus, Natasha!" he exclaimed, motioning for Carol Danvers to step up and take his place. "How far apart are your contractions?"

"About five minutes? Maybe less. I kind of lost track."

" _JESUS_!" he said, yanking his phone out of his pocket. "I'm calling Dr. Reyes. For god's sake, Nat, why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I'm fine!" she snapped back. "And we're kind of busy here!"

"We're not too busy for you to have the baby! Jesus, we need to get you to the med unit!"

Scowling, she let him pull her out of her chair and shuffle her very quickly out of the war room, and every agent in the room stared at them as they went. "Focus on your screens!" she barked, and every single one of them jumped and turned back to their jobs.

"Hey, doc! It's Clint Barton," he said into the phone. "Yeah, um, are you at HQ today? No? Oh crap, well... Natasha's in labor. Five minutes apart, maybe less. You're where? Aw shit--"

He covered the phone with his hand. "She's in Brooklyn at a clinic," he said. "And we shut down all the bridges and the subway. She's stuck until we can clean up the mess. Tasha, you should've called her--"

"Don't bitch at me," she said, wincing through another contraction.

Frowning in frustration, he got back on the phone. "Doc, I'm gonna see if we can send a helicopter or something to pick you up," he said, and then went quiet as he listened to her. "Uh huh. Got it. Someone will let you know what's going down."

They had reached the med unit, and he crammed his phone back into his pocket and pushed the door open with his shoulder, ushering her in. "Hey!" he called at a medic who was wandering by. "She's in labor!"

Natasha really hated being the center of attention. She was a spy; she hung around the margins and watched people, and despite having to occasionally take the spotlight as part of her job, she loathed it.

So when that medic grabbed a wheelchair and yelled for another medic, and suddenly there was a whirlwind of activity all surrounding her, she got extremely tetchy.

Which explained why when some strange doctor she had never met before introduced himself and said he was going to deliver the baby, she snapped.

"Absolutely not," she said. "I don't know you, and I don't trust you. You are not delivering my baby."

The doctor, whose name she promptly forgot, looked shocked and Clint just looked exasperated. "Nat, what the hell do you want to happen here?" he said, helping her get into the bed in a private room.

"Call Banner."

Clint looked a little surprised but pulled his phone out promptly. With Dr. Reyes out, Natasha's options were admittedly limited, but of all the people at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ who actually could deliver the baby, Bruce was the only one she trusted enough to do it.

He ran into the room a few minutes later, looking shocked and a little wary. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Bruce, I need you to help me with this," Natasha panted, gritting her teeth through a particularly strong contraction.

His eyes got very wide. "Wait, what? You want me to... to deliver the baby?" he stammered. "I don't know--"

"You've delivered babies before, right?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Please," she said softly, and Clint quickly moved to kick the other doctor out of the room. "Bruce, I trust you, and I really need this to happen with someone that I trust with my life."

He looked humbled at that, and he swiftly nodded his head and reached for a pair of gloves. "Okay," he said. "Okay, let's see how far you have to go."

A couple of nurses and medics stayed in the room to help him out, and when he took a look between her legs (she sighed in resignation at that), his eyes got big again.  “Oh,” he said. “Well, the good news is you’re apparently going to have a very short labor."

"Ah, fuck!" she hissed; the contractions had just been irritating before, but now they were really starting to hurt.

"How short are we talking about here?" Clint asked, sounding intensely nervous.

"Just a few minutes," he said. "You're fully dilated, and... yep, that looks like the baby's head."

One of the nurses helped Natasha pull off her sweater and get into a gown while the others hurried about in a flurry of activity. Clint stood beside her, wringing his hands. "Does everything look okay?" he asked Bruce.

"It looks great, Clint," Bruce said. "Don't worry, okay?"

Just like that, Clint went calm. He pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down, taking Natasha's hand. "Try not to break it," he quipped, and she let out a little laugh.

The next contraction hurt like a bitch, and Clint hissed when she gripped his hand. "Just breathe through it, sweetheart," he said, and Natasha tried to remember all the crap they had talked about in that birthing class.

If Bruce could see the baby's head, that meant it was time to push, and sure enough, he gave her the command a second later. "Don't push too hard, Natasha," he said. "Gently, so she can make her way down."

After that was a blur of pain and pushing, and she really couldn't remember the details of that phase other than that she was very, very ready to get this baby out.

Memory kicked back in when she heard the baby cry for the first time. "Oh wow," Bruce said, having to raise his voice over the indignant wail. "She's got some lungs!"

After a second, he stood up and placed her on Natasha's stomach, a squirming, wrinkled little thing, and as soon as Natasha put her hand on Phil's back, the baby stopped squalling and nuzzled against her skin, exploring with her hands. She was warm and a little slimy still, but she was the most beautiful thing Natasha had ever seen. It felt like her heart would burst, it was so full to the brim with emotion.

"Hi there, little bird," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks at the sight of her daughter.

Clint knelt down and rested his chin on the mattress, reaching out to touch the baby's tiny hand. "She's amazing," he murmured.

Looking up, she saw Bruce smiling at them, at their little family. "What are you going to name her?" he asked.

"Philippa," she answered, carefully moving the baby up so she could nurse.

Recognition dawned on Bruce's face, and he smiled again. "That's a wonderful name," he said softly.

Dr. Reyes came bustling into the room a few minutes later, out of breath. "Am I too late?" she said. "Oh, I am! I'm sorry I couldn't get here in time. But look at this little baby! Can I take a look at her, Natasha?"

Phil didn't want to stop nursing, and Natasha really didn't want to let her go now that she could hold her in her arms, but she carefully got her to disengage and handed her up to Dr. Reyes.

The two doctors had a quiet conversation while Dr. Reyes examined the baby, and Natasha let her head fall back onto the bed, heaving a sigh of relief.

"You doing okay?" Clint asked, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes.

"Yeah," she replied, reaching up to take his hand again. "You?"

"A little overwhelmed, but yeah," he said with a laugh, "I'm... good. You didn't break my hand, so that's good. So was that... whole process really painful?"

That made Natasha snort. "It hurt," she said, "But I've felt worse."

"You may be the first woman on the planet who'd rather give birth than be tortured."

He rose up to kiss her as she laughed. "Holy shit," she whispered, holding onto the front of his shirt. "We have a baby."

"Think we're ready for this?" Clint said, perching on the edge of the bed so he could put his arm around her.

"Probably not," Natasha replied, leaning into him and closing her eyes. "But... I think that's okay."

* * *

The first time Clint held Little Phil, he cried. Natasha had never actually seen him cry before, not streams-of-tears-rolling-down-his-cheeks crying, and she was amazed at how much the tiny little girl who had just been born could bring them both to their knees.

Dr. Reyes gave them the okay to take the baby home after a few hours of observation, and Fury himself met them at the medlab door, ostensibly to escort them to their armed guard. By the way he smiled when he got a look at the baby, Natasha suspected he had ulterior motives.

"I can't believe you nearly had that kid in the war room," he muttered to her as they walked through HQ.

"Did you expect anything less of Natasha, sir?" Clint said, squeezing her around her waist.

"No, I suppose I didn't," Fury said with a chuckle. "Good job, by the way, directing the action today. Stark managed to take out the sub before they could completely power up that cannon."

Natasha only half-listened as Fury updated them on the attack and what Tony, Steve, and Thor were doing. She was too busy feeling Phil's slight weight in her arms, the warmth of that little body against hers. She tucked a wispy tuft of red hair back under the baby's cap, and Phil opened her eyes, blinking absurdly long lashes over her cheeks as she looked up at Natasha.

"Hello again," she whispered.

The helicopter ride to the tower was short, and then they were bringing their baby home. Natasha couldn't help wondering if the pregnancy hormones were still raging or if having a baby had fundamentally changed her. As she carried Phil into their apartment, her chest felt tight with emotion, like she was the Grinch from that cartoon Clint forced her to watch every Christmas, and her heart had grown three sizes.

Philippa got her first sponge bath after Clint had his first diaper change ("Oh my _GOD_ , that's disgusting!"), and as they were figuring out how to wrestle a wiggly, rather unhappy newborn into clothes, JARVIS spoke up.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Banner asked me to tell you that he would be happy to cook dinner for you," the AI said politely.

And that was how they ended up curled up together on the huge sofa on the common floor while Bruce puttered around in the kitchen. Little Phil nursed enthusiastically until she fell asleep, and Natasha had just dozed off leaning back into Clint's arms when the elevator chimed and opened to spit out the other three Avengers.

"Oh, here you are!" Tony exclaimed, sounding bizarrely cheery. "So we kicked ass today, but guess what? I just got a call -- That's a baby."

Natasha gave him a 'well, yes' sort of look along with a glare that told him to keep the volume down.

He was the first to make it to the couch, with Steve and Thor on his heels, all of them wearing goofy grins that made Natasha fight back the urge to laugh.

"Would you look at that?" Steve said softly.

"Damn it, you upstaged me!" Tony said, thankfully keeping his voice quiet. "I was coming in here to tell you Pepper just called and told me she's pregnant, and you had to go and actually have a baby."

"What?" Natasha exclaimed at the same moment Clint came out with, "Are you serious?"

Phil chimed in by waking up and starting to wail again. "Oh no," Tony moaned. "I'm going to be terrible with babies. Look, I'm making yours cry!"

Everyone was passing the baby around after Clint got her to quiet down, laughing at the story of how Bruce had to deliver her, when Steve finally thought to ask what they had named her.

"Her name's Philippa," Clint said, his voice a little rough. "After Coulson."

Steve looked down at the tiny baby in his arms and smiled a rather watery smile.

It was Thor's turn next, and Little Phil seemed to love him because she dropped right off to sleep when he started rocking her in his huge arms. He walked in circles around the room, humming something Natasha couldn't quite hear.

Pepper came home with Rhodey in tow an hour later, right when Bruce had finished making dinner, and then it was time for the excitement to start all over again. Pepper held Philippa and grinned at Tony, while Tony looked like he was somewhere between amazed and terrified. As they all sat around the table, chatting and laughing, putting the day's attack to the side while they celebrated, Natasha realized that she was really, genuinely happy. 

This was the family she chose and that had chosen her. They accepted her even with all of her flaws, and they cared about her despite her reservations. Some of them even loved her, she thought when she caught Clint watching her, a surreptitious smile on his face as he cuddled Little Phil against his chest.

For the first time, she was glad she hadn't had a family when she was a child, because finding out what family felt like was so much more meaningful now that she could understand its preciousness.


End file.
